


Blind

by sigynstark



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Violence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Harm, Swearing, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2018-12-12 22:13:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 25
Words: 76,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11746227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sigynstark/pseuds/sigynstark
Summary: The new assistant of Mycroft got kidnapped. And tortured.They catch him. But he's not the big fish.Of course, the big fish is a fucking lunatic.Don't worry, not Moriarty. But maybe, we'll get there too.Oh, did I mention the assistant had two dates with Mycroft?Oh, and did I mention *le gasp* Mycroft likes said assistant a bit too much?What happens when you're a tad too close to the Iceman and the wrong kind of people know about it?(So. I'm out of my mind --REWATCHING SHERLOCK-- and I'll drown you in angst. And fluff. Tons of fucking fluff. But more tons of fucking AAANGST. It's a shitty start --because I just started to write something then I rolled with it so smoothly-- but it'll get better --I think lol-- I promise!I'm horrible. Don't hate me too much though. This is just something I wanted to keep to myself but after it managed to cross the 30 pages in Word, I decided I'd put it online. To keep it. Like. Writing it in my QuickMemo on my phone probably isn't good. I wanted it somewhere safe on the Internet. Haha. Safe. Hahaha. Right... updating every ~3000 words. If I'm a little shit, I'll stop the chapter before it gets really good.And I AM a little shit. ;))





	1. Hidden

**Author's Note:**

> I'm nervous. Hi! Thanks for clicking. I told you before, the start is a bit, well... shitty.  
> I hope you'll like it though! I enjoy writing this fic very much. (Because I'm a crazy motherfucker, MUHAHAHA!)  
> Occasionally I'll switch character POVs. It's fun! Switching POVs, Sherlock fanfic... never did either of them before. Bahaha.  
> Don't hate me. :)))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm nervous. Hi! Thanks for clicking. I told you before, the start is a bit, well... shitty.  
> I hope you'll like it though! I enjoy writing this fic very much. (Because I'm a crazy motherfucker, MUHAHAHA!)  
> Occasionally I'll switch character POVs. It's fun! Switching POVs, Sherlock fanfic... never did either of them before. Bahaha.  
> Don't hate me. :)))

The collar was too tight.

I knew it'd be leaving marks. It was itching and hurting my skin, bruising it. I stared into the camera with a blank expression. I was mostly unharmed; save for the bruises on my arms and the scar on my forehead. I knew I was in for more, very soon.

"Well, honey", grumbled a voice behind me, into my right ear. The voice made my stomach twist in distaste. The camera was rolling already. He ran a hand in my hair and pulled it backwards to expose my neck more and the collar around it. "Be a good girl and tell the Holmes brothers what will this collar do if they're not answering my demands in two days."

"It will blow up", I said quietly, voice hoarse. He let go of my hair.

"Look into the camera, dear", he said then, and I did. He walked away to stand behind the camera. "Say it again. The way I taught you."

I stared into the dark circle. My head ached. My hands and legs were tied to the iron chair which was screwed in the floor. I knew it was over the moment I lost sight of Mycroft. Oh, he's going to be pissed about this. I was the fourth who got kidnapped and I knew how it'd go for me.

"It'll blow my pretty head off", I said nonchalantly. "If Mycroft Holmes doesn't obey the orders."

"Yes, what orders, love?"

"The codes", I sighed, "for the nuclear missiles."

"That's right honey." I saw him zoom in on my face and I kept looking blankly. I knew what he'd do to me. I knew his procedures by heart by now. He was a handsome man with bright blue eyes, friendly, smiling face in crisp uniform, always. His voice was gentle and kind. No one would think of him as a psychopath but actually, he was worse than most of them. "Smile, dear", he instructed and I did. A dead smile from a dead woman. "Mycroft, if you fail to give me what I want, I'll torture your assistant and I'll kill her live on the television. The world will know her life is on your hands. I give you two days."

I swallowed as he switched the camera off and walked over to me. He ran a gentle hand in my hair, his thumb ghosting over my injury from yesterday.

"You're beautiful, you know", he whispered. "I almost feel bad for everything I have to do to you."

"Then don't do it", I replied, "release me and I won't tell anyone."

He laughed. Then slapped me across the face. I felt the blood in my mouth.

"I'll have fun breaking you", he whispered.  
___  
The video was disturbing. The three of them watched it for the third time. Sherlock, Mycroft and John stared at the monitor in complete silence. When the video was over again, Sherlock turned to look at Mycroft, his expression unreadable.

"When?"

"Yesterday."

They only needed a few words to understand each other and John didn't talk, just paid attention.

"He knows", Sherlock said. Mycroft stared at him, coldness on his face but inside he was a burning, raging mess. "What did you do?"

"Two dinners. Texts." Replied Mycroft in a cold tone, as if it was nothing.

John almost couldn't stomach this. The woman was with him at all times for half a year now and he speaks like she didn't matter anything to anyone. Though, John was wrong. Sherlock knew. He saw it in Mycroft's eyes; it was all written in his cold orbs. The unstoppable rage and the train of thoughts of his brother blaming himself and trying to figure out where she was in the same moment. Mycroft won't give the codes away but he also won't let her die. This was just out of the question. He wouldn't be able to lose her and not simply because she was a stellar assistant.

"Did you take her home?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes." Came the dry reply.

"Did you stay for a night?"

"Yes." Mycroft sounded irritated, knowing Sherlock wanted to test how important she was to him. He added before Sherlock could ask the next interrogating question. "And no."

John frowned, but Sherlock nodded. It seemed she was more precious than a one night stand. This alone was enough for him to fuel his passion. Sherlock stood up.

"Keep me updated." He swirled his coat dramatically as he headed for the door. The game was on. John followed, befuddled.

"Hurry", said Mycroft quietly.

Sherlock said nothing but continued his way. As John looked back at the man, he couldn't read anything off of his face. He was way too good at turning to ice.

Beneath his mask, he was shattered.

He knew eventually someone would get to her. He knew his mere persona would attract trouble. But not like this. He stared where his little brother and John disappeared and tried not to care about the stinging feeling in his eyes.

There'll be Hell to pay for that man. Mycroft would make sure he suffered as much as a man could in this wretched world. He closed his eyes and rubbed his face, knowing no one would see it. He gave in to the feeling of being upset.

This was a way too alien feeling to him.

She was his assistant; she took care of tasks he asked her to do and she was brilliant at everything she did. When he noticed how she liked to keep her eyes on his face for longer periods of time he couldn't believe it. He saw how she smiled at him - no smile like that was flashed to anyone else. He observed and learned more about her feelings through her expressions and the way she acted around him. As he was ice, she was fire.

And God he was fool enough to go closer to her flame. Because where did it get her now? The fact they only had two dinners together and he stayed at her place for a night - where really nothing happened - was enough to get her kidnapped and tortured.

Because a criminal wanted to get close to him. To make him bend.

Mycroft stood with a groan and collected himself the best he could. He kept thinking about her beautiful eyes and tender lips, the way he held her in his arms as she slept peacefully that night. He felt a dull ache in his chest.

I will destroy him, he swore to himself. And to her.

______

"I changed my mind", he said, "but you already know it, don't you?"

My lips quivered as I stared at him. My entire body was in pain. I couldn't stop but think about my life choices. What led me here. What led me to this torture. And I realised I made a big mistake to ever get closer to Mycroft Holmes.

Not like I could stop it. He was intelligent and men with brains always attracted me. I couldn't help but look up to him and eventually make the mistake of falling in love.

Because clearly, he probably didn't want me. Or so I thought. The miracle happened when I playfully texted him to have a dinner with me and to my surprise, he obliged. Damn, I was so nervous... and he seemed nervous, too. After the second dinner he took me home and kissed me. I never felt like I'd melt into a puddle before but when his lips touched mine, I became well acquinted with this feeling as well. I was a professional; I met all his needs every time and I wanted to be good to him but he surprised me again. He promised me more dinners. And he spent a night with me in my bed, but his hands never wandered and he never made me feel like I was just one from the million.

On the contrary. I was one of a kind, I was special, and he made me feel special that night. I knew, that this time, I chose well. Or… I was chosen. I didn’t know.

"I am disappointed. I didn't get the codes, Mycroft Holmes", the man muttered with a smile, sitting next to me and looking into the camera. I swallowed. He made sure he could access my left hand’s fingers but also made sure I wouldn't be able to untie myself. He started to play with my fingers, bending them backwards as much as he could. My pinkie looked so small in his grasp. "Do you want me to break her little, delicate bones one by one? Because I can." With a smirk, he stared at me in the eye as he suddenly snapped my pinkie backwards, breaking it immediately. I screamed for what felt like hours. I could barely calm down when I saw my finger getting bigger with each second. He looked in the camera again. "Tell you what. I'll break all of her fingers in her pretty hand, then I'll give you three hours before I'll proceed to her right hand, doing the same. Then I'll continue with her toes and legs. By the end of the two days, I'll break as much of her as I can. Unless you give me the codes."

"No!" I yelled as he reached for my ring finger. He laughed.

"That's it! Beg to him", he instructed, grabbing my finger firmly. "Beg for those codes, dear."

"Don't tell him!"

I wanted to say a lot of other things. That my suffering was nothing compared to the damage this man could cause with the codes. That I really didn't matter, I wasn't irreplacable... but another bone of mine broke and all I could do was to shriek at the top of my lungs.

"Disobedient, huh?" He growled, grabbing my middle finger this time. "This is how you like your assistants, Mycroft? She's a real firebrand. I bet you like her like this. Shall I extinguish this fire? Or will you tell me the codes in exchange for her life?"

"Mycroft!! Don't!" I screamed again as he broke my middle finger. I saw stars. "John! Sherlock!" He grabbed my index finger with a wicked grin. He must've thought I was shouting for friends, while I had other plan in my racing mind. I hoped it’d work. "Lestrade!!" Another crack, another howl. I almost passed out. "Fourteen... bones... in one... hand..."

I heard his laughter.

"Actually, fourteen bones in all of our fingers, dear", he grumbled, proceeding breaking my thumb mercilessly.

______

Her words still echoed in his head. He watched the footage alone at first. An hour and a half already passed by and he couldn't do anything. He was in charge all across the country and now he was so powerless!

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out with shaking hands.

Anything new?  
SH

Come in.  
MH

Swallowing, he stood and cleared his throat, straightening his suit in the process. He needed to work harder. His mind was, however, blank. He couldn't help but see the image of her face before his closed eyes, hers filled with so much pain he almost couldn't bear.

Sherlock found him standing in that place later. He and John came almost running. Mycroft said nothing as his brother and the doctor watched the footage.

"She's clever", said Sherlock, kicking Mycroft out of his train of thoughts. He didn't realise the sound of her screams paralysed him both in mind and in body.

"What?"

"JSL-141", Sherlock answered, phone already in his hand. Mycroft's face fell flat. John hissed.

"The car? How?"

"She probably saw the plate before he could knock her out." Sherlock replied calmly. "It's not a British one either. Shouldn't be hard to track it down."

"I'll have people on it", said Mycroft, hope finally flaring up in his mind. He clang onto it as if his life depended on it.

"We'll find them", Sherlock said quietly and Mycroft was half aware his brother tried to reassure him. He learned so much from John. Mycroft didn't reply, just kept tapping his phone. "Tell me if something happens."

At this, Mycroft could feel his throat tighten. He didn't want to see any more videos of her tortured, but he knew they wouldn't be able to find them so fast... thus every broken bone in her body was his fault for being uncapable of finding her faster.

______

He let me rest a little before the three hours passed and he started the camera again.

"You know", he said with a grin, "I'm disappointed in your boyfriend. I thought he'd save you by now."

I stared at him with a blank expression. I thought the same but I also tried to accept my fate. Mycroft was a powerful man but he wasn't capable of saving everyone. At the end of the day, he was just a human like everyone else.

"Tell you what; I'll deal with your right hand later and continue now with your tiny, cute toes."

I swallowed in fear. The camera was further away from us now so anyone who's watching the footage would see everything he did to me. The jeans on my right leg was torn open; one modification which happened between the footage before and this one. He pushed a piece of cloth in my mouth and tied it to my head so I couldn't spit it out, then he started to slowly snap my bones broken in my tied up foot.

Each toe seemed to hurt more than the one before. I couldn't see from the tears anymore. I forgot my name. I forgot where I was and why I was there.

Only me and the pain existed.

He grabbed a hammer and swung it at my leg with all his force, shattering my tibia to pieces in the middle. I passed out, and I was grateful.

I never wanted to wake up again.

Unfortunately, I did wake up a little later. I was thrown in the bed he raped me in and sat next to me, staring at my pale face. I swallowed, my throat was dry and everything hurt.

"You're awake", he grinned, "good. I can continue training you, then."

"No", I trembled, voice shaking and as I moved slightly, I cried in pain. He laughed and slapped me across my face. I fell back in the bed. "Don't... don't, please..."

"Nobody cares if you don't want it", he laughed quietly. I screamed as he grabbed my unharmed leg and tugged it towards himself to bring me closer to him. I kicked and flailed despite the great pain in my body. He struggled with me for a few minutes before he slapped me again. "Nobody cares if you cry and scream. Not even the Holmes brothers care. They left you to suffer and die."

"You're wrong."

Both my torturer and I froze in surprise. He put a hand on my neck as he half turned to look at the door — but by then, whoever it was, punched my capturer so hard in the face that his fingers released me.

"Mycroft", I whispered, but he didn't even look at me. He was way too absorbed to punch out all of the madman's teeth he couldn't hear me.

"Mycroft!" Another familiar voice snapped. Sherlock. John Watson stormed in with Sherlock behind him and I drank in the sight of them. I am saved. I am safe. The pain already started to subside in my body. John stepped next to me while Sherlock seperated the figthing men. A few comm made their way in the room as well, handcuffing my torturer, leading him out of the room. He wasn't as handsome now; Mycroft's blows bloodied his nose, tore into his eyebrow. The older Holmes had only his hair messed up, which he fixed with a single stroke of his hand as he tried to tore his other arm out of Sherlock's grasp. They battled silently. I wanted to stare at them to make sure I wasn't imagining them when John next to me spoke.

"Let me see your hand." I showed him and his eyes flared up with rage. As his eyes scanned my injured leg, I saw him clench his jaw. "It'll be alright, I can fix you right up."

"I'm fine", I mumbled.

John looked at me in disbelief and I wanted to smile but couldn't. I looked at Mycroft - his cheeks flushed from anger but his eyes cold and distant, locked on my face. He didn't move closer to me. Sherlock glanced at me, then back at him, but said nothing. I felt my throat tighten and tears filled my eyes. I wanted to bury myself in Mycroft's chest, I wanted to get lost in his arms.

But his face didn't look welcoming at all.

"Well", I cleared my throat and tried to sit up, pain surging through me, but I couldn't say more. A single, loud BEEP filled the room. My eyes widened as I remembered. Mycroft and Sherlock moved at the same time as I grabbed the collar around my neck. That bastard probably set my collar to self destruction. Or maybe there was a lock the team didn’t notice and it activated the bomb around my neck. Either way, I was in deep trouble.

BEEP!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh? What are you staring at? I told you I am a little shit. If you're interested in the next chapter, tell me!


	2. 1 Unread

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, alright. I admit the last chapter's ending was a bit (A LOT) mean. :D  
> Fun fact: the main title idea came to me from a Hurts song, Blind. I couldn't really decide between Blind and Only You. Both gave me huge feels. XD  
> I want to put the lyrics here, but I won't. It'd take you all too long to get to the next chapter. ;)  
> EXACTLY 3000 WORDS! HA!

"Mycroft", I whimpered, looking up at him, scared. He stared back at me shocked, he couldn’t control his emotions now.

"Sherlock", he snapped as a reply, reaching to move my hair out of the way. John jumped up and Sherlock moved behind me, examining the collar as Mycroft did the same.

BEEP!

"Less than a minute", said Sherlock, fidgeting with the collar. My uninjured hand finally grabbed Mycroft's.

"Just leave", I whispered. His expression betrayed him, he was in agony and his hand squeezed mine so hard I thought he'd break more bones of mine by accident.

BEEP!

"I'm not leaving", he reassured me.

"It'll blow up..."

BEEP!

"I know!"

"It'll kill everyone near me!"

"I KNOW!" Mycroft grew more and more irritated.

BEEP!

"It won't kill anyone", hissed Sherlock, removing a layer of the collar. I didn't react to his words.

BEEP!

"But it doesn't have to kill you."

"I DON'T CARE IF IT DOES!" He raised his voice, looking at the device, fidgeting with something there with his free hand.

"Which cable?" Sherlock snapped.

BEEP!

Oh no. It was like the shitty action movies. Two cables, one to cut, but if you cut the wrong one you'll blow up. What a ridiculous ending for my life.

BEEP!

But, as a matter of fact, I didn't care if I died here on the spot.

"Red or blue?" Sherlock asked again.

I stared in Mycroft's eyes and I made peace with myself. So be it.

"Blue", I replied calmly.

BEEP!

"What? How do you know?" Mycroft asked, slightly confused. I squeezed his hand. His expression went blank. He realised I said blue because it was closer to his eyes’ colour, not because I suspected that'd be the right one. "You don't."

BEEP!

"You said you didn't care if it blew up."

"I said I didn't care if it kills ME!"

He roared the last word and I smiled faintly. My brain stopped functioning normally and all I could think was how sexy he was when he was angry.

I wanted to kiss him.

BEEP!

"Just do it. For me. Please." I pleaded but he remained, unmoving.

"Mycroft, go away." Sherlock ordered.

"Why?" Barked back his brother.

BEEP!

"Because you're not quite replacable." Sounded the collected reply.

"Why, you are?! No!"

"John, please."

BEEP!

At Sherlock's gentle words, John walked up to Mycroft, grabbed his other arm and started to pull him away from me.

BEEP!

"I'll never forgive myself, if..."

His voice broke, his expression became unreadable again and we let each other's hands go at the same time.

"It'll be alright", I finally managed a nervous, painful, smile. "Isn't it, Sherlock?"

BEEP!

"Certainly", he replied with a cheeky grin, leaning back to the collar. I watched John pulling Mycroft to the doorframe, but couldn't manage to pull him out of the room completely. I realised John only could remove him from me because Mycroft cooperated. "Ready?", asked the detective, and I closed my eyes.

"As I'll ever be."

He cut the blue cable. And the beeping stopped. I didn't realise I held my breath in until this moment, and when I did, I released it shakily. Sherlock quickly and carefully removed the collar and glanced over his shoulder at his brother and John with a grin.

"Told you."

John laughed, tired, Mycroft swallowed, stoic once again. He asked for the ambulence to come in. I realised, as the adrenaline left my system, my injuries hurt a lot more than a second before. As the people rushed in, Mycroft warned them to be careful, then he left without another word.

He left me behind with complete strangers, after all that happened to me.

They took me to the hospital and performed all sorts of tests on me. Bloodtests, X-rays, everything. They also made sure to be gentle with me, just as Mycroft asked. After they were done tending to my broken bones and I was in a hospital bed, alone in a room (which was way too extravagant for my pay) a woman came and asked me questions how it all happened, and I told her, even if I broke down several times. I asked her not to tell any of it to anyone and she promised she'd keep her word. Then I was left completely alone in the VIP hospital room with my thoughts.

At first it was a relief. I got good food and painkillers. The bed was comfortable and after all, people didn't disturb me.

But after a few hours spent alone, I realised I missed Mycroft terribly. I missed the way he talked calmly to me... I wanted him to hold me in his arms and tell me everything would be alright. But he didn't come. I fell asleep... I had a dream of him not wanting to talk or even to look at me.

It seemed too real.

I woke up early and decided I'd stay awake. I kept thinking about what happened; the way I was kidnapped and Mycroft's first reaction when he found me. I never saw him losing control that much before. As I recalled how he yelled in anger at me that he didn't care if he got killed, I shuddered. He didn't care about himself, that was clear to me. I realised something else, too.

He probably thought I was better off if he wasn't around.

My heart swelled when I thought he'd simply and cold-heartedly ignore me to prevent this event from happening again. I could see that happen, but every fiber of my body and soul was against it. He'd pull himself away from me if he thought I'd be safer without him.

I have to stop him, before he absorbs this thought too much.

Later that afternoon John Watson visited me. To my surprise, he brought a bouquet of beautiful flowers. I thanked him as he settled them on the bedside table. After that, he sat in the chair next to my bed.

As he examined my face, I was delighted to know that he wasn't a Holmes and he wouldn't be able to read as much out of me as Mycroft and Sherlock would. He cleared his throat and frowned; the wrinkles around his eyes deepened a little and he seemed older than he was.

"How are you feeling?" He asked then.

"I'm better", I assured, "physically." I looked at him carefully. He nodded. "Did you see Mycroft since yesterday?"

"No", he mumbled apologetically, "he stormed out the building before we could talk to him." We. Him and Sherlock. "According to Sherlock, he was upset and it didn't happen to him often, thus he needs time to recollect himself."

"And what do you think?" I inquired, and a wrinkle between John's eyebrows deepened.

"Bullshit."

I nodded, agreeing. John folded his arms on his chest and kept looking at my leg in the cast. Tears stung my eyes.

"I want to see him", I said quietly, looking down at the sheets in my lap, my vision fogged from the tears. "I want him to visit me and talk to me."

"That's understandable", John said quietly and he sighed. "Sometimes I wish those genius minds would think a little more like us."

I laughed dryly, shakily, tears spilling, as I looked at John.

"Like the goldfish..."

"The lowly people."

He smiled at me and brought his chair closer to my bed, placing a warm, friendly hand on mine. He looked in my eyes with those lovely orbs of his. Even his glance was gentle.

"Do you want me to talk to Mycroft?" I blinked the tears away as I nodded. He squeezed my hand gently. "Do you want me to bring anything? To make you feel better?"

"Yes, please." I nodded once more. "A phone and books."

That crazy man destroyed my phone, I remembered.

"What sort of books?"

"Anything from my shelves", I shrugged, "you can probably get in my apartment without a problem."

"Yeah, I'll ask Mycroft about it", John smiled at me, then he let go of my hand and stood up. "I'll come later then."

"Thank you for coming, John. I really appreciate it", I smiled back at him, then he said goodbye and left.

______

As he walked down the corridor he felt irritated. This just wasn't fair. She was so hurt, even moreso than when they found her. He navigated down the hall and stepped out the hospital, walking towards the black car. He sat in and it immediately left the street. The man next to him looked at his face.

"Did she like the flowers?"

"She wants to see you, not your flowers", snapped Watson. Mycroft sighed. He knew it was a mistake to send John. He always became too... carried away with emotions. And from what happened lately, Mycroft would tell anyone that emotions were a problem. Dust in the machine. Flaw. Error. Mistake. "When will you go yourself to see her?"

"Later." He replied quietly.

"She wants a phone and some books from her apartment."

Mycroft nodded to the window.

"I'll see to it."

"Seriously, why do you have to be so cruel with her?"

The older Holmes turned his head to look at John with the coldest expression he could muster. The ex-soldier held his gaze bravely.

"Cruel? Cruel?!" He echoed. "I've been keeping her safe."

"Putting her in a VIP room in the hospital and placing armed soldiers before her door won't keep her safe from what's _within_." John tapped his temple. "Trust me on that."

"Do you think I don't know what she's going through?" Mycroft's voice was a mere whisper. Quiet, but dangerous. But John didn't seem to care.

"Clearly not, because if you truly understood, you'd be with her night and day."

"It's not that easy..."

"You're the one making it difficult."

"I have other things to tend to!" Snapped the elder Holmes. "I'm not arguing about this with anyone, not even you!"

"So everything is more important to you than her?" John questioned. Mycroft swallowed. No, he thought, nothing is. But he didn't reply. It was enough he suffered from it, didn't need anyone else to point out the obvious. "Interesting", said the doctor coldly, "Sherlock was _**wrong**_."

They sat in silence for the remainder of the trip. Mycroft didn't care John left the car.

For a while, he wouldn't care about anything.

______

John kept his word. He brought me a brand new phone and a few books. He wasn't sure what I wanted, but my favourite, the Dalai Lama's Cat was among them. I silently stared at the cover for a few moments before I looked up at the doctor.

"Did you talk to him?" John visibly clenched his jaw. _It didn't go well_ , I figured. "What did he say?"

"He'll come later to see you", John sighed and I knew my assumptions were right.

"He thinks I'm better off without him", I pointed out. John said nothing but I saw the answer in his eyes. I let out a quiet, shaky, unhappy laugh. "I knew it. He shuts me out of his life to protect himself."

"No, to protect you", John muttered and I could hardly believe it.

"That's what he said isn't it?" I felt the tears threatening to spill again. "That's what he says to make himself feel better." I felt the anger burn my throat, and I couldn't hold my tongue. "I never believed the others who told me he has a chunk of ice where his heart ought to be, but now I see they were right. Mycroft Holmes doesn't care about anyone but himself, in the end."

"You're just saying this now because you're upset..."

"I'm not upset, John. I knew he'd do this the second he left me behind in that godforsaken place." I angrily wiped my face to get rid of the tears. "I was injured, I almost died, I was scared and he just left me there... I could barely cope with this without him..."

"You love him." John wasn't asking. He pointed it out. I broke down crying, fell apart in front of him. I knew this looked and sounded like a confession, but I couldn't do anything about it. I couldn't control myself. John quickly sat on the edge of my bed and hugged me tight, rubbing my back. "Shh, it'll be alright, I promise."

As I held onto his sweater tightly and buried my face in his chest, I kept thinking how much I wanted him to be Mycroft.

"I don't want to see him, ever again", I cried in his shoulder.

"Yes, you do", he replied gently, rubbing my back. "And you will and you'll both be fine."

______

Mycroft leaned back in his chair with a deep sigh. He tapped something on his laptop and the voice record rolled again.

_"I was injured, I almost died, I was scared and he just left me there... I could barely cope with this without **him**..."_

He blinked, then buried his face in his hands. How did they get here? How possibly could she love him so unconditionally that she broke down like this? He knew John was right a moment later but he couldn’t believe it.

He didn’t see this at all before.

If he could take a glance forward before he decided to let her closer to himself… he never meant this to happen. She seemed such a simple soul; one who could be flattered with a few dinners, flowers and the like. He thought she’d only care about his wealth and the trinkets he treated her with – as many others before her, did –, and the truth was that she wasn’t interested in him.

Now it seemed he was wrong and she saw right through his intentions. He had to admit, this was strange. Her, admitting that she missed him. Out of all people. Mycroft thought it wasn’t very clever on her part – she almost got killed because of him, after all –, but it stirred something in him.

_Don’t ridicule yourself, she doesn’t really want you. She’s better off without you. Caring never did you any good. Don’t care about her. It’ll be easier._

But it wasn’t.

For heaven’s sake, it wasn’t.

______

I was in the hospital, it was the third day. The painkillers helped me sleep but other than that, I had too much freetime on my hands. As a matter of fact, I couldn’t wait to walk the corridors, to at least look at other people’s faces. It started to get bored in my room alone.

The phone I got was an incredibly expensive one. It was beautiful with all the colorful mandalas on the back of it, and I knew exactly who’s hand was in this. I never told Mycroft what I was doing during my freetime but I think he read everything easily out of me. And, of course, he spent a night in my apartment, it was rather easy to figure out what kept me occupied after work. My throat tightened as I, once again, reminded myself that Mycroft cared enough about me enough to grant wishes for me. And he also put a lot of time and effort into it.

Also, John reported to Mycroft. And Mycroft listened.

But only to the wishes which didn’t require him to be present. Personally.

Tears stung my eyes. I powered the phone up - the background was black, with a Buddha statue's face to the left - and I saw that someone already saved some contacts in it. His number with Sherlock’s and John’s was there. I blinked my tears away when I realised it was Mycroft’s personal number. My fingers hovered above the contact. Should I? Shouldn’t I? John surely told him I wanted to see him and he could deduce it from the way I looked at him when they found me so he knows I missed him, right? And if he didn't want to see or talk to me - why put his personal number in this phone?

If I could only see into his head as easily as he can into mine!

I knew he probably thought he’d keep me safe this way, but I just didn’t want to accept it. So I tapped the message button and took a deep breath. _Be brave, be brave._

**I wish I could thank you personally for everything you’ve done for me. Please, visit me.**

I read the text three or four times. It didn’t sound demanding, did it? It was just another tiny request. Surely he could spend five minutes of his expensive time on me, right? It wasn’t at all a bitchy whining, right? I clicked send before I could change my mind and I leaned back against the soft pillows with a sigh.

Pain throbbed in my left hand as I waited. It was early in the afternoon, he probably was already at work. Who was his assistant now? Who ran after him now, who carried his papers and important notes? Suddenly, I felt slight anger flaring up in the pit of my stomach. My phone buzzed and it turned into anxious anticipation.

**Can’t. Too busy. – MH**

More hot tears threatened to spill. My eyes burnt. Only three words and he could get under my skin. I was close to throw my beautiful brand new phone across the room...

Just why couldn't he let me closer? Sure, he had his own one night stands - yes, I knew about them. Even though I suspected he didn't think I actually knew. At the end of the day, I wasn't entirely stupid. I thought at first I'd be a tiny adventure for him like all those other women, but then I was slightly surprised when it didn't happen in my apartment. From what I could gather from the way he treated me, he wanted me to be more to him.

If all that bullshit didn't happen with that psychopath!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck it.
> 
> "Girl, I told you,  
> After all we’ve been through,  
> I don't wanna be by myself.  
> Girl, I told you,  
> That it would tear me in two,  
> If I see you with someone else..."
> 
> HHHHNNNNNGGGGGGHHHHH!!!
> 
> "Because only you can set me free,  
> So hold me close just like the first time.  
> And show me how it used to be,  
> Because only you can set me free.  
> (Only you can set me free...)"
> 
> FEEEEEEEEEEEEELS!! :DDD *throws brain out of window*


	3. The Face

**Mycroft, please. I'd like to see you.**

 I bit my lip. It wasn't demanding, yes? It sounded pretty decent. I shrugged and tapped the send button. My throat was dry as I waited for his reply and when it came, I tapped it nervously.

  **You don't need to thank anything. - MH**

 I groaned. Why was he so stubborn? Why must he be so cruel? I quickly typed a message, without thinking about it this time.

  **After all we've been through, you have to put me through this, too?**

**Nothing happened between us. And nothing will. I would suggest you stop sending messages to me. – MH**

 My heart seemed to stop at this while I was pretty sure it functioned just alright. Though, I wished it’d stop beating at that very moment.

  **Why are you doing this to me?**

**I humbly believe I do not need to explain anything to you. As I wrote before, I’m busy. Good day. – MH**

 ______

 He never thought writing messages like this would be so hard. The interesting thing was that when he did this, most of the time, Mycroft felt nothing.

 Not like now.

 He caught himself chewing on the inside of his lips after he sent the last message for the day for her. He knew he was way too harsh and she’d probably spend the next few hours crying, but in the end, she’d get through it. The faster she moved on, the better.

 He knew how it looked like to the outside for the knowing eyes and God saw his heart he was glad Sherlock didn’t show up lately. Because everything about his deeds screamed the obvious. The way he made sure she was in the best of the best of hospitals, in a special room, alone, getting exquisite from everything. The phone, custom made. Just for her. And her books. He really was busy since he got back to his regular schedule but he still wanted to go to her place and pick up books she liked.

 Curiously, he liked to be in her apartment. It was so different from his home, yet it was so peaceful. She was pretty deep into Buddhism and meditation, and her home reflected this. The smell of the incense – which he noticed earlier around her already –, the numerous books about Karma and Buddhism, the prayer wheels – she had four at various places, all of them was used daily, at different places in her home. The colourful prayer flags, hung above every door. Even her sheets had the Om Mani Padme Hum’s mantra on it in the shape of a circle, 108 times. He wasn’t one for religion himself but he felt like he stepped on sacred ground. Everything was in the right place – she was a little obsessed with cleaning and everything being in order. But as everything seemed it was placed perfectly, the colourfulness made it look like an organised chaos. It was… weird. For the lack of a better word. But he liked it and he found himself being curious about it.

 He didn’t dig deeper into it. Mycroft liked her lifestyle, because she was under obvious stress from day to day, she could manage to keep calm. Her presence was refreshing. Most of his assistants after Anthea – who had to quit for family reasons – seemed too jumpy, but she never flinched when Mycroft talked to her and accepted if she did something wrong, doing everything in her power to correct mistakes.

 As if she was always meditating, even at work. Thus, it was actually hard to read her.

 Of course her movements and attire told him a lot, but he never suspected what possibly could go on in her head. He knew though she liked to be in his company. If they sat in a cab together, she’d rather face him, not the window. She’d try and start a conversation. She’d laugh honestly if he tried to jest. She’d blush if his hand touched hers. She was comfortable around him, despite the fact she knew a whole lot about him than most people.

 And he loved it.

 And he hated it.

 And he missed her.

 ______

 „So”, I sighed, „don’t spare me.”

 Sherlock frowned, narrowed his eyes as he sat in the chair. He looked so uncomfortable. I wanted to laugh but couldn’t, not after the last message Mycroft sent me. As Sherlock’s eyes wandered on my figure, I wondered what he’d make out of my appearance, my face.

 Anything Sherlock saw, Mycroft would see too.

 „You’re suffering a heartbreak”, he begun in a monotone voice, „it didn’t last long, actually, you didn’t get too far. He wants to make you feel like he doesn’t care about you and it destroys you, your eyes are red and swollen, you’ve been crying for at least two hours today. You didn’t drink anything lately — your lips are dry — and I assume you had no breakfast either, however there’s no tray on the bedside table because you threw it across the room.” I lifted an eyebrow. Sherlock slightly tilted his head, knowing I wanted to know how he figured that out. „I can smell the cleaning products and it’s coming from the opposite wall. Can’t be the regular cleaning because the floor is still slightly damp in one spot so I can imagine you tossed the tray and had someone clean it up. The new phone is from the aforementioned ex”, I flinched slightly, „he bought an expensive phone and made a custom case for it because he knows what you’re interested in. I believe he told you you two had nothing between you via text given the fingerprints on the screen.” He picked up my phone, flipping it between his fingers. „Though, he doesn’t want to leave you, he went through all the trouble to bring you a phone you’ll definitely like. You messaged first, because he doesn’t have the courage to talk to you, which means he probably feels guilty and doesn’t want you to think he’d like to continue the relationship, while he obviously does. He couldn’t decide it yet. But no one goes through this much trouble to get a gift if they wanted to leave another. He cares about you.” He placed the phone back on the bedside table. Sherlock looked at my pale face. „He thinks staying away from you is the best for you.”

 „Well. He’s wrong”, I sniffed, grabbing the sheets in my lap.

 „You might think so. But after everything you’ve been through, did you really think Mycroft would continue this?”

 „Why wouldn’t he?” I sighed. I wasn’t surprised Sherlock knew who sent the phone. He already knew most of this before he even came to my rescue. „He spends time with women in private, I know it. Why can't I be with him a little, too?”

 „Spends time with women?” He cocked a brow. Sherlock seemed too amused with what I just said. „Why do you think?”

 „Oh, I know”, I rolled my eyes. „He changes cologne. Brings a comb to work. Leaves earlier. And more importantly, asks me to book a table in his favourite Italian restaurant for two.” I felt my heart shatter.

 „But while he only had one night with those women, he didn’t…”

 He didn’t finish, and I said nothing. We stared at each other silently for a few minutes.

 „So why do I need to know all of this?” Sherlock asked, straightening his back.

 „To tell him”, I shrugged. He stared at me. „I know you will.”

 ______

 Mycroft sat befuddled before his laptop. What did she just say? She noticed when he changed cologne?

 „Oh he’ll know, trust me”, said Sherlock. Mycroft moaned. This won’t do. Sherlock will never let him live this down. And he also knew Mycroft put recording devices in that room. He was glad Sherlock didn’t tell her this. Yet. „Especially the comb part. Why does he even need it, I don’t understand.”

 Sherlock wanted to make her laugh, Mycroft realised. But she didn’t.

 „If you think Mycroft listens to me, I have to disappoint you.”

 „He’ll listen. He might not do anything, but he’d hear you.”

 „And why is that good for you?”

 „Because he’ll know that he’s important. That I’d… I think I don’t have to, but he needs to know, I forgive him.”

 „Do you think it’d make a difference?”

 „Yes.”

 „Why?”

 „Because according to everything you said… and everything I think, he’s beating himself up for what happened to me. Even though it wasn’t his fault at all.”

 „Have you ever considered how it must’ve felt like to find you there in the condition you were in?”

 A moment of silence.

 „I know”, she replied softly. „I know it must’ve been awful. For a man like him who’s in charge of a lot of things, it must’ve felt horrible to be powerless. He couldn’t prevent my torture. But it’s alright. I know why he couldn’t do anything and I know how that could feel. But still… after all that happened, I still would like to see him.”

 „I don’t think that’ll be possible.” Sherlock sighed. Mycroft narrowed his eyes. „You have to move on and forget him. Forgive him if you’d like… but move on. There’re much more better men for you out there.”

 Mycroft swallowed. His mouth was dry. Why did his brother’s words feel like the thorns of a rose to his heart? How could he say something like this, even?

 For a few minutes, there was silence again.

 „Thank you for coming, Sherlock”, she said quietly, „I really appreciate that at least one Holmes comes if I call them.”

 Mycroft closed his eyes with a heavy feeling in his chest. He listened how Sherlock left the hospital room without saying a word.

 ______

 „What?”

 „Yeah, I know, crazy.” John smiled. „You’ll come live with us at Baker Street 221B.”

 „No way”, I groaned. Sherlock’ll be there. He’ll tell everything to Mycroft. After his visit in the hospital I talked to no one because even though I thought his brother could talk some sense into him, Mycroft still didn't show up. So, I’d do what Sherlock told me to. I’d let Mycroft go. Even if every inch of mine was against it. But it’d only work if Mycroft let me go too and if I move in with the detective and his doctor, he wouldn’t. „I’m not moving in there.”

 „Well, it came from… higher ranks.”

 „An order, right?” I cocked a brow. „I have a guess who ordered it.”

 John spread his arms wide open.

 „I can’t do anything.”

 „I can”, I hissed, „by not going there.”

 „Look, I don’t think you can walk for more time than five minutes. And you live alone without an elevator.”

 „I can manage”, I rolled my eyes, „I can order food. They can deliver it to my door.”

 „Don’t be ridiculous…”

 „Am I ridiculous? Am I? Isn’t he, after all he’s done? I bet he sits behind his desk in this very moment and laughs at me.”

 John sighed and shook his head.

 „He’s not doing this to make fun of you. He’s just…”

 „An idiot, that’s what he is”, I groaned, „if he wanted me to feel better, he would’ve visited me at least once.”

 „You know the Holmes don’t think as we do. And I think he just wants you to be safe.”

 I let out an unhappy laugh.

 „Safe, with his drug addict, gun-wielding brother.”

 „Much more safe than in your apartment, alone.”

 I couldn’t argue with that. Fine, fine… I’ll stay there until I’m healed. But after that, I’ll leave my job, and I won’t get in Mycroft Holmes’s way ever again.

 "I can't leave the hospital yet", I sighed, and John flashed a smirk.

 "Actually, you can."

 "I can't walk", I cocked a brow.

 "You don't have to. I brought a wheelchair."

 "No way." At this point, I wasn't sure I'd laugh or be angry as Hell. With a groan, I looked at my lap with the Dalai Lama's Cat in it. Swallowing, I looked at John again. "So... I need to be in a... safer place." I frowned slightly. "Which means I'm not safe in this hospital anymore, right?"

 "Don't know", John shrugged as he put a blanket and a jacket of mine on the bed, "they never tell me the details."

 "How boring", I pursed my lips and John smiled, standing and managing to put my belongings in the room into a bag he brought with himself. There wasn't much, to be honest. "I'll need a few things from my apartment." I noted, sitting up and dragging myself to the edge of the bed to take on the jacket, and I saw John looked at me above his shoulder as he walked for the door.

 "Everything you need is at Baker Street."

 I took a deep breath.

 "Damn it, Mycroft", I mumbled to myself. John came back with the wheelchair and I shook my head. "I hate the look of it."

 "It'll be just a little walk, I promise."

 He grabbed my left arm and helped me get up from my bed. I groaned with pain. My leg wasn't ready and it hurt a lot. John helped me sit down and covered my legs with the blanket. I reached for the bag and put it in my lap as he walked behind me and started to push me out of the room. To my surprise, two, very grim looking soldiers stood at the door, immediately following us as we started to walk down the corridor. I looked up at John above my shoulder.

 "Isn't this a bit too much?" I questioned.

 "Well there's something I learned quickly about the Holmes brothers." John smirked down at me. "They tend to be theatrical."

 ______

 So, Baker Street. So, Baker Street. The lovely detective let me sleep on his leather couch. _What a knight._

 My skin crawled at the mess Sherlock made on his desk. I couldn't help but stare... and couldn't do anything about it. I kept playing with the bottom of my shirt in excruciating pain.

 My dear, dear head. It'll explode from that mess.

 The problem was I couldn't get up and sort out everything. It wasn't my job, either. But how, how could a person like him, a genius be so, so damned messy?

 "You're not allowed to touch my stuff" Sherlock talked to me, probably noticing my stare, but I ignored it.

 My stuff. Boys and their toys. I sighed... everything was written on my face, again.

 "You didn't sleep since you're here." Sherlock pointed out. He kept clicking on his laptop, not looking at me again. "You should. It's been 26 hours."

 "I can't", I sighed deeply. "I’m in pain and I just... can't tolerate that there."

 At this, Sherlock sighed. Then he got up and - to my utter surprise - arranged papers and books neatly together. I blinked.

 "Better?" He questioned, narrowed eyes looking down at me.

 "Better", I mumbled, pulling the blanket up on my body.

 "Good." He walked over to me with a bottle. He grabbed my hand and placed a painkiller in it. His eyes found mine. I smiled slightly. "Then go to sleep."

 Why was he so... worried? Why did it matter to him if I got enough sleep? I swallowed the pill. My head was closer to the door and I could look out at the stars outside the window. I felt cozy. Strangely, I felt safe with Sherlock. In the past few hours he's been on his laptop and he was quite silent. The only noise was his fingers typing, it was warm and comfortable.

 I didn't realise I fell asleep.

 As I opened my eyes, I immediately knew something woke me up. Not a physical touch, or a noise but something else. I blinked at the window and my eyes widened in horror.

 It was dawning outside, the sky was tinted with light pink on the dark blue. But a head, covered with a mask was in the window itself, staring at me intently. I couldn't see their face. But they surely stared at me.

 Then I remembered we were on the first floor. My mind went crazy with thoughts. How? Who? Why? What?

 "SHERLOCK!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.

 "What?" Yelled the detective and I realised he was still in the room, asleep a moment ago, at his desk. As I looked at him, he just sat up straight, a paper stuck to his face as he whipped his head to look at me. "What??"

 "The window", I whimpered, pointing at said window. He tore the paper off of his face and darted next to the couch, but by then, the stranger was gone. He quickly opened the curtains and opened the window to look after whoever it was. Then he turned on his heels and moved with long steps towards the door. "No! No, don't leave me!" As he heard my voice, he stopped abruptly and looked down on my face. He hesitated. "Please", I whispered.

 "Damn it", he grumbled and fished his phone out from his pants' pocket. "Mrs Hudson!" He yelled and ran down the stairs anyway.

 A few minutes later a kind looking, old lady walked up the same stairs Sherlock ran down on, closing the entrance door the detective left open.

 "Oh, hello dear", she half smiled at me, but she slightly looked concerned. I realised my leg in the cast was on the floor, I probably was pale and I was panting. It took me a few seconds to realise I was too scared to stay put. "What happened?"

 "Someone was in the window. I think they stared at me before they ran away."

 I shuddered a little, trying to slow my breathing and pulse. Mrs Hudson looked around in the room, then smiled at me again.

 "I'm sure Sherlock will catch him. Would you like a cup of tea, dear?"

 I frowned. I didn't mention if I thought if that person was a male or a female. As I slowly got up, I hissed with pain. I walked to the window, relying on a table for support. I didn't see anyone on the steet; it was quiet and calm.

 I bit my lip when I thought this was the calm before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how's it? I cracked up when I wrote Sherlock sleeping at his desk, imagining a paper sticking to his face. I can totally imagine this happen. Pffft. :D


	4. A Ghost from the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you excited?? I'm excited!! :D

An hour later Sherlock was back in the room, walking up and down, mumbling half words to himself every now and then. He didn't care about me. So I stayed at the window, blinking my tiredness away. My injuries throbbed under their casts. I saw a black car. My heart seemed to jump up in my throat, threatening to leave my body in a hurry, when I saw who got out of it. That someone rang the bell and I heard Mrs Hudson's greeting. With a groan, I turned towards the room’s door.

And there he was.

He looked perfect. Shirt, vest, tie, jacket and his umbrella, clean, crisp and spotless. I took in a sharp breath when I realised I couldn't even wash my teeth yet, I was in the same, creased clothes I slept in – black shorts and a grey shirt – and even my hair was a mess, my casts started to get dirty and my eyes were swollen from the sleepiness and the pain I had to endure every second.

Who am I kidding? Even this encounter shows he's out of my league.

"Mr Holmes", I nodded towards him and turned back to the window, face pale, heart racing.

"Ms Smith", he said quietly and as I heard his voice a shiver ran down my spine.

_Breathe in, breathe out. It's all in your head._

"Mycroft", Sherlock snapped, "what took you so long? Stopped to eat a cake?"

"I wish I had a life as simple as yours, brother mine", sounded the sarcastic reply, "but alas, I sadly have other things to—"

"You told me yourself her safety was of importance. Did you change your mind?"

I swallowed thickly, but didn't look at them. Did Sherlock say this because he truly was interested in his brother’s reply, or he said it because he wanted me to hear Mycroft say whatever he would say?

"No. Never.”

His reply sparked warmness in the depths of my stomach. **_Never_** , he said. I felt the blood rushing back to my face once more.

„But I believe she has more to say about this mysterious figure to us now.”

At this sentence, I glanced back at him above my shoulder, slightly shocked.

„I’m sorry, what?”

Sherlock spinned a black leathered chair in front of the couch, then he sat in his own armchair. Mycroft and I looked in each other’s eyes for a moment, before he motioned at the black chair with his umbrella, then sat in the other armchair, in which – as Sherlock told me yesterday – John used to sit in. With a sigh, I managed to move to the chair, moaning with pain when I could finally sit down. Then I looked back at them. Sherlock stared intently into my eyes above his fingers which touched at the tips just under his chin, and I felt like he could see my soul. I felt like I was naked before their eyes.

It was unnerving, while I knew I had nothing to hide from them. I was clean. I did nothing wrong.

„I don’t know what I should talk about”, I finally broke the silence, because I was tired of the waiting game.

„Perhaps start with your enemies”, sighed Sherlock.

„Enemies?” My eyebrows flew up on my forehead. „Normal people don’t really have enemies in life, Sherlock.”

„Then let’s talk about your previous lover”, Mycroft spoke out louder before we could continue our word battle, carefully not looking into my eyes, „the one named Adam.”

The colour which came back in my face a second ago was drained again. My uninjured hand shook slightly in my lap. **_Lover._** That person didn’t love me.

„He’s dead.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes ever so slightly and I could see Mycroft built up his icy walls to hide any emotions from his face as he examined his umbrella’s handle. I couldn’t read anything else off of their faces. This became ridiculous.

„He really is dead. He died almost six years ago.”

„Are you sure?” Sherlock asked, a curious glint in his eyes betraying how much he enjoyed this.

„I’m sure, his plane crashed. I was informed.” My voice didn’t sound like it was mine. „And I was pretty relieved when I heard the news, let me tell you.”

For a few seconds, we all were silent. They kept staring at me. Mycroft blinked a few times, Sherlock didn’t. I had to admit, the younger Holmes started to get on my nerves.

„He was my… I don’t even know”, I sighed, burying my face in my castless hand for a few moments. I didn’t want to revisit this part of my life, yet I was forced to do. I buried it so neatly, and now I had to dig down to it. I was upset. And they clearly saw it, but didn’t say anything yet. I looked back at Sherlock, with a rather stoic expression. As I started to speak, my voice became more and more emotionless. „We started to date each other six years ago. We were getting along nicely. I had quite a few friends back then. We shared an apartment with Adam when we had our fifth month dating together, and I thought I knew him. Well, as you probably both know, I didn’t.” I shook my head and cleared my throat, the walls I built up around these memories crumbling before me. I had to lower my gaze, I couldn’t stand the way the brothers were staring at me. „He became awfully jealous. All the time. He’d try to control me, to tell me awful things so I wouldn’t meet my friends. I knew he tried to manipulate me, I’ve been there before him.” My voice seemed emotionless but I started to fidget with the bottom of my shirt again. „After a few weeks it became unbearable to me. I wanted to go out and be with other people. He couldn’t accept it. I tried to tell him that I wasn’t a bird he could lock up and all he said to this was I was wrong.” With a dry mouth, I looked up at Sherlock. He was concentrating so hard to deduce every ounce of information out of my words and appearance he probably didn’t even realise Mycroft’s hands gripped his umbrella tighter. „I had a friend, Poe living nearby. One day I woke up to find myself locked up in our flat. There was a fire… during the night… my friend burnt in there with his parents. I saw it in the telly. And when Adam came home late night and I asked him why did he lock me up and did he hear what happened to Poe and his family, he was…” I had to blink, I frowned and leaned back slightly. „He was laughing.”

I relived it now. The shock. How the maniac laughter rolled off Adam’s lips like venom. How it seeped into my soul, shattering me into pieces.

„But what came after was worse, right?” Sherlock asked quietly, his voice almost gentle. I nodded. „Go on then.”

I hated to be dragged through my past but I knew it was for my safety. So I nodded again.

„Adam kept me in our flat. He called my boss and told him I wanted to leave the job. He managed to get the papers for me. All the while he kept abusing me both verbally and physically. I had… I was a very peaceful person. By that time I embraced meditation and it helped me cope with a lot of bad things in my earlier life. So I was reluctant to accept that Adam was out of his mind.” I swallowed again, throat burning from it. „I tried to reason with him, but nothing worked. When I finally snapped and tried to escape, he said he was disappointed in me before he retaliated it physically.”

I went silent. From the corner of my eye I could see Mycroft’s face was as rigid as a statue’s. Sherlock, on the other hand, lowered his hands into his lap, fingers entwined.

„So you realised he was dangerous.” He pointed out. I didn’t reply in any way. I was glad they didn’t ask what did Adam do to me. „How did you escape?”

„Ironically, a single kitchen pan saved me. I fled, then called the police. After the usual ordeal, he was jailed, so I gathered my things with the remaining money I had, and I moved here.”

„You changed your name”, Sherlock pointed out.

„I didn’t feel quite safe running around with my real name, given the fact he was only to jailed for a few months.”

„A few months?” Mycroft echoed, his voice irritated. I suddenly forgot he was there, so now I looked at him a little bit confused.

„There weren’t any evidence on the house fire.” I smiled faintly. „I didn’t know Sherlock back then.”

„Ha”, the mentioned man grumbled with a half smirk. „So he came after you then?”

I nodded.

„I contacted my lawyer every few weeks… she informed me that Adam indeed left the country, but the plane he was on, crashed.”

„Well. This explains a lot.” Sherlock darted up and he started to walk up and down between me and Mycroft. „As a matter of fact, according to the timeline, no plane crashed on its way here.”

„Impossible”, I resisted, following Sherlock with my eyes.

„It could be possible. What if she lied to you? Did you look into it yourself?” I couldn’t reply. No… I believed her. She helped me escape Adam. He stopped and looked down at me with a frown. „Do you remember his shoesize?”

I didn’t know if I wanted to help him at this point. Because if his final conclusion would be that it indeed was him, then… then it wasn’t just me who was in danger. For a moment I looked at Mycroft’s face. He stared back in my eyes, stoic. After all that happened… if Adam knew about us… I glanced back up at Sherlock.

„9.”

His face gave away nothing.

„And his height?”

„As I recall, 190. give or take.”

„Around 190”, Sherlock mumbled. „Well.”

„Well what?” I shuddered to think it was really him in the window this morning. I suddenly felt the warmth leaving my body. „Do you think it was him?”

Sherlock sat down again, with his hands in his lap once more. He was a professional. But I knew this face when I saw it. Mycroft had his own version of it when he wished to keep back information. My uninjured hand shook.

„It’s him.” I came to my conclusion. The brothers said nothing, but their eyes gave away they were impressed I could read out the reply from their non-reactions.

_Breathe in, breathe out. It's all in your head._

„It’ll be fine.” Sherlock reassured me. I didn’t realise my pulse was so high my chest actually hurt from it. I had trouble breathing. He knew nothing. I was about to fall apart. He’ll… he’d… „Do you hear me? It’ll be fine.”

I slightly shook my head. I was close to the edge again. I’ve been here, years ago. Many, many years ago. And now I was here again. When I thought I’d have a new, simple, peaceful and safe life, it managed to turn to ashes again. What did I do to deserve this?

„He was here”, I whispered to myself before I pressed my uninjured hand to my lips. He probably saw Sherlock. He saw me. Half of my body in a cast. Unable to escape. Panic rose higher and higher in my body. I didn’t care if my muffled words made no sense at this point. „And we were asleep…”

Sherlock was asleep. He could… he could be dead now, because of me.

I didn’t realise when did a pair of firm hands squeeze my shoulders. I stared into Mycroft’s determined, clear eyes and I nearly really fell apart. _Adam will kill him._ The thought spinned around in my head like a stuck record, the words repeating themselves again and again and again.

„I won’t let him hurt you”, he said firmly. His voice managed to drag me back to reality. If slightly, he still was able to. After all, after all these years, he was the first man I trusted after Adam. „You’ll stay here with Sherlock and I’ll have him hunted down.”

I didn’t realise my hand was still on my mouth.

„But… but what if… if he gets here… before… he knows…”

What else did he know?

If he truly was alive and maybe, just maybe he paid my lawyer to lie to me, he had an awful lot of time to find me, to pursue me without me even knowing. I felt sick to the stomach when I thought he maybe followed me home. Mycroft squeezed my shoulders once again.

I came to a realisation. If Adam found me, it maybe happened because I was with Mycroft. He lied that he was just a cog in the machine… he met all sorts of important people. Pictures of him were posted online. And on some pictures, I was on, too.

If Adam only noticed me in one of the papers… he knew I moved here, I told my lawyer before I burnt up that last bridge…

„I promise you, **it will be fine**.” Mycroft stressed each word so it’d get through my panic. I took deep breaths and I realised Sherlock was quickly typing something on his phone. I looked back at Mycroft’s face, greeted by the calm expression once again. „You know what I am capable of. Do not doubt me.”

I swallowed. I didn’t doubt Mycroft, no. But…

„Don’t… don’t underestimate him”, I whimpered, finally lowering my hand. „Please, Mycroft… I can’t… if he… I can’t let anything bad happen to you…”

He shook his head with a smile, almost a smirk.

„Nothing bad will happen to me and you know that. Here we are, worried this lunatic would come and get you while you, on the other hand, worry about _me_?” He let out a small, dry laugh. „Out of everyone else in this world?”

„Yes, I worry about you”, I said quietly, tears filling my eyes. „Constantly.”

He raised his hand from my left shoulder and caressed my cheek with his knuckles as he got to his feet. This motion was so gentle, so honest and caring that my heart nearly stopped after all that crazy beating around.

Adam raising from the dead, Mycroft touching me so delicately after all those mean messages.

My world decided to turn upside down, I was sure of it.

„Keep me updated, brother mine”, Mycroft said with his velvet, collected voice to Sherlock, before he walked out of the room. „And don’t be upset. We’ll get him before he blinks.”

______

So then. During the night, Sherlock was awake. During the day, John.

The first night was horrible. I’d wake up rolling in my sweat, screaming. Sherlock wasn’t used to this, he had no idea at first how to calm me down. He wasn’t as good with words as his brother. But I appreciated his awkward attempts. The first time John ran down the stairs with his gun in his hand, only to realise I just had a bad dream. He seemed exhausted. Sherlock sent him up and moved his armchair next to my bed. I fell asleep again, after watching him typing on his laptop for at least an hour. I woke up from a nightmare once more but this time, Sherlock grabbed my uninjured hand tightly and tried to soothe me.

Which, surprisingly, worked, no matter how silly things he said to me. At first I was upset about how he didn’t acknowledge my state but a few minutes later I found myself completely calmed down by his monologues. Why this tea was better than that, why that coffee never could beat the other, how he felt when he smoked and how upset he became when he didn’t, how the colour of the sky changed when it dawned… then he figured it’d be better if he talked about the cases he solved.

He actually talked about how he caught serial killers. And surprisingly, it worked a miracle. I actually started to believe him and Mycroft that they’d catch Adam, and this was the best medicine for my brain. After the last time he had to calm me down I slept like a baby for five hours.

During the day I could talk to John a lot about anything. About recent news or his personal life, John was an absolute Jackpot. He even played chess with me (of course Sherlock just had to tell us where to move our pieces, but after we ignored him two times, he stopped). John seemed to be the opposite of Sherlock to me, but I could see why they liked each other.

Then came another night, and it started all over again.

This went on for an excruciating week. I was exhausted. I kept staring at my phone, eyeing Mycroft’s name in my contacts for at least ten minutes. Sherlock just finished typing something on his phone when he looked over to me.

„I’m sure he’s just busy”, he told me. I wasn’t surprised he knew what I was hoping for, secretly. Well… there were no secrets before Sherlock. „I bet he’ll text you when his hands aren’t full.”

„I don’t want to force myself on him”, I shrugged slightly. „I just…” I went silent.

„Miss him”, pointed out Sherlock with a smirk.

„Stop it”, I grumbled, pulling the sheets up on myself.

„Alright. I just don’t get it.”

„Don’t get what?”

„Why him?” He frowned slightly. It seemed it was something that bugged him for a while. „I mean, you’re not after his money. Women only want him for his money. Those one night stands you talked about… they all gave it away what they wanted.” I examined Sherlock’s face while my eyebrows wandered up on my forehead. How did he know? Did he speak with Mycroft about this? „I don’t really care what he spends his time with, but really. It’s… intriguing. What do you like in him?”

I blinked.

„I never asked myself this question.” I admitted quietly. „Strange… I don’t know…” I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly as I kept thinking. „There’s an unusual aura around him. Like… most people are afraid of him but I always felt… safe.” With a frown, I glared at my phone again which suddenly went dark. „Maybe it’s because of my past with Adam… or it is because Mycroft… I felt appreciated, you know? He somehow could make me feel like I wasn’t worthless.”

„You aren’t worthless”, Sherlock arched a brow. „Why would you even think this? You’re wonderful.”

At his words I blushed so deeply it was impossible to hide, but what was the funniest, Sherlock’s incredibly famous cheeks became rosy as well. Wow. Sherlock Holmes blushed because he complimented a woman. This was new.

„I spent a lot of time with someone who constantly told me this, you know”, I pointed it out. „It’s never easy to forget. To alter. To cope with. But Mycroft never treated me like Adam or my bosses before him. No matter how tiny I was compared to anyone else. He never yelled at me. He never treated me badly because I was a plain, simple, ordinary woman. Mycroft always treated me well… and I think that’s what drew me to him at first.”

Sherlock hummed.

"So if he truly was a small person in the government..."

"He introduced himself to me like that", I pointed it out, "it took me a few to figure it out, but it didn't change a thing. No, I don't care what his job is or how much money he has. If he worked in a grocery store and lived with his parents, I still would like to be with him."

Sherlock laughed. Probably because he saw Mycroft before his eyes, working in a grocery store.

"I'm glad he means so much to you", he said then, quietly, to my surprise.

"Shame I don't mean as much to him", I sighed and he shook his head. "What?"

"Do you think you'd actually _be here_ if he didn't care about you?" I frowned slightly. "Oh, don't tell me. You still think he doesn't want you?"

At these words, I blushed again. Sherlock could read people much more than I did and I had no doubts he read his brother, too. So he probably was right. But still...

"I don't think there's a chance", I sighed and his lips curled upwards.

"You really don't see it." He turned back to his laptop. I didn't miss the sarcasm in his voice. My phone buzzed in my hand and he started to type. " _Marvelous._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your messages are like air to me, so tell me how you like it! Love ya guys! Will post chapter 5 very soon!


	5. Pictures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww yiss. I loved writing this chapter. So exciting and amusing. <3

I rolled my eyes then checked my phone. I had a new message. It's only 7.10, who could this be?

**Do tell me my brother dear doesn't bother you. - MH**

I smiled faintly. He finally wrote to me. I felt my cheeks warming up. Did he change his mind? Will he talk to me now? Should I even believe this?

**If he didn't, I'd be very lonely and bored.**

When I sent it, I realised it sounded rather desperate. Well. I **_was_** desperate. My hand itched under the cast. He sent me a picture of his desk with high towers of papers on it.

**I honestly wish I could entertain you, rather than sorting this mess out. - MH**

I blushed deeper. Did he just...? I felt Sherlock looked at me from the corner of his eye but I ignored him.

**I wish I could help you sort it out.**

I smiled as I glanced at the picture again, spying a cup of tea between the paper towers. Who was making tea for him now? The question almost killed the mood. Just almost. I was way too happy he talked to me again.

**Once you're healed, you can. My new assistant is rather inadequate for anything. He seems to shrink when I talk to him. Infuriating. - MH**

He wrote I could go back to work for him? My happiness just grew. I couldn't help but snicker at the last bit of his message and I quickly started to reply to him. It was rather hard with one hand, but wasn't that bad.

**I hope you did not forget how intimidating you can be, sir.**

I remembered how my co-workers constantly asked me if I was afraid of him... and how they thought I was nuts for saying no, I enjoyed his company. Ah well. My brain worked differently.

**Intimidating? Please. Hardly. - MH**

I giggled again. He _knew_ he was, and he used it to his advantage. But I liked how he played.

**Why do you think so?**

**You're not afraid of me. That tells me enough. - MH**

**Well.** I paused. **Upon hearing this, most people say I'm out of my mind.**

I was, wasn't I? He really wasn't my league, not in age or in status. I really shouldn't talk to him, for his sake, not mine. It'd probably degrade him if he was seen with me.

Not like he cared before.

I remembered of those dinners together, in those fantastic restaurants and how shocked I was when I saw the prices in the menu — Mycroft probably saw it but he reassured me he didn't care. Mycroft was kind of old fashioned and he didn't care about what he spent his hard-earned money on. Even if it was me. Maybe this is why I felt a little uncomfortable. I never felt like I deserved those dinners.

**And what do you think? - MH**

I bit my lower lip. Should I? Shouldn't I?

**Maybe I am. But I don't really care. I still miss you.**

I swallowed, then put my phone down on my chest. I really did sound desperate. But I couldn't help it. When I was with him, it felt like I was whole. He could make me laugh easily and I felt like he set me on fire with his kisses. **_Uh_** , his lips.

His pause was longer this time. I wasn't upset; I could imagine his day would get busy soon. I almost drifted off to sleep when my phone buzzed.

**I'll see you soon. Until then, rest and heal! - MH**

I smiled, placing my phone down on my chest again. My heart beat so fast I was sure Sherlock heard it. _I’ll see you soon._

______

The days slowly melted into weeks and I could finally get up. I made best buddies with a pair of forearm crutches. _What a delight._ The small room wasn't enough for me to move around but I had to, because I was itching all around under the cast. It started to annoy me. My hand seemed alright; a month passed, and John took me to my doctor who checked a hundred times if I needed a new cast or could carry on with the healing process. Thank to whoever was in charge (and I honestly thought it was Mycroft), I didn't need a new cast on my hand. From that point, John would help me train my fingers to move again.

"It'll feel strange at first, but you'll get the hang of it." He put a stressball in my 'new' hand back at Baker Street. "Squeeze."

I did my best. My skin felt funny. I tried to move my fingers a lot, during the day and night, using my mala more often for my mantras to heal faster, while I couldn't wait to have the cast off of my leg. I probably had two to four weeks. But walking wasn't as bad as I thought it would be and I could finally stop taking painkillers.

We were walking back from the grocery store with John when we found an envelope on the doorstep. John stopped with a frown and leaned down to pick it up with his free hand which had no bag in it.

"It has your name on it", he said quietly, looking at me.

I stared at the envelope. I told no one I was here. I had no one to talk to, apart from Mycroft. My co-workers had no idea what happened to me.

"Give it to me", I mumbled, reaching out for it.

He looked in my eyes, hesitating, then he sighed and obliged. I tore the envelope open and fished out the contents. These were pictures. I frowned. Photo of my home. My prayer corner. My kitchen. There was a picture of me sleeping alone in my bedroom.

John got a hold of my free hand. I yanked it out of his hold to continue looking at the pictures.

"We shouldn't... we should show it to Sherlock", he mumbled, but I didn't care.

My stomach did a backflip. Me, working for Mycroft. On my first day, he told me a joke and I laughed. Someone took a photo of it from the outside. Mycroft showed his back to the window, while my face could be seen. Another picture of me, asleep, at home. The next one was the same setting, except someone was touching my face. Then came the really scary part. A picture of me and Mycroft... in the restaurant. Except, his face couldn't be seen. Someone cut it out of the picture and wrote above the hole with a pen: **DEAD MAN**. I swallowed. The next was him kissing me at my doorstep. It was obscure, taken from far away, but a pen was applied frantically on our faces anyway. The last was me, sleeping on Sherlock's couch. Someone wrote on this picture with a pen, too.

**YOU'LL PAY, WHORE**

"Come on", John gently took the pictures out of my hand. I moved with him but didn't feel my body. John navigated me inside. "Sherlock!"

"What?" The younger Holmes walked to the top of the stairs with a frown but he had to take a single glance on us to see what was wrong. He ran down the stairs and took the pictures from John, flipping through them. "How dramatic", he mused with a grin. I still kept my back to the door. Sherlock looked deep into my eyes. He took a moment to figure out my current mental state. "He's not scaring us, is he?" I slightly shook my head while tears filled my eyes. I lied. I knew he knew. But he never mentioned it. "Good. Because this is all he can do. He thinks he's clever and can't be catched, but he made a huge mistake." He carried the photos up the stairs with him. "Could you make her a cup of tea, John? I'm busy."

I fished my phone out of my pocket and sent a message to Mycroft with shaking fingers.

**Please, be careful. Be safe. Please.**

Soon, he replied.

**Always. I promise. – MH**

______

Mycroft visited us later that day. I was snuggled up on the couch, keeping my eyes on Sherlock all the time, replaying the talk we had a few hours ago.

_"Don't worry. I'll catch him."_

_"In time?" I asked._

He never replied.

When I glanced up and saw Mycroft, I let out a quiet sigh.

"You promised you'd be careful", I whispered to him. He was dressed so elegantly I felt bad again because of my own attire. Will there be a time **_ever_** when I won’t feel like an ugly, grey little mouse when I meet him? I had my doubts. His presence literally lit up the room. "Coming here is risky, don't you think?"

"I had to see you", he replied gently. Warmness spread in my cheeks. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He saw something terrible happened. "I wanted to make sure personally that you are alright. I believe you went through a great deal of shock." My lips quivered but I didn't reply. It was written all over my face again. He turned to Sherlock. "Which makes me wonder…?" The younger Holmes said nothing just handed Mycroft the pictures. I had a feeling Sherlock already told him about what exactly happened. I couldn't see his reaction, I only saw his back. "Oh", he said carefully. "I see."

He didn't sound upset. Both him and Sherlock was so careful not to show me any emotion. I wondered why. Did they want me to stay calm?

"So?" Mycroft asked Sherlock, who started to explain a few things, starting with the envelope's origin, through the way my name was written on the envelope, to the contents of it. All in all, he couldn't really narrow it down. Mycroft hummed. "I checked the CCTV records. A man was here alright, face hidden, put the envelope to its place then left. After two corners he vanished."

Sherlock spun with his chair, his eyes lighting up as he glanced at Mycroft.

" _Vanished?_ "

"Yes, well... he headed underground."

The two Holmes stayed quiet for a few moments. So... that's why Sherlock lost track of him the last time. I swallowed and felt sick to the stomach.

"Use me as a bait", I murmured. Mycroft froze, Sherlock stared at me. "He wants me. Wire me and use me as a bait."

Mycroft turned to face me now, expression almost blank.

"Do you have any idea how _dangerous_ that would be?"

"I've had enough of these threats. I want it to be over."

"No", Mycroft said softly, but as serious as he could.

"It's not a bad idea", Sherlock joined the conversation. "We'd put a tracking device on her and we'd let him take her wherever he resides. Proof will be where his lair is."

"You know just as well as I do", Mycroft turned back to Sherlock, "what would he do to her if he got his filthy hands on her."

These words sent a shiver down my spine. Not because of their meaning but because of the way Mycroft said them. His voice was burning with rage now.

"Any other ideas?" Sherlock asked calmly, "this could work and..."

"No!" Mycroft snapped. I flinched. Sherlock arched a brow. The older Holmes quickly calmed down. It was amazing how suddenly he could change between his moods. How suddenly he could... drown his feelings. "I'm not risking her life."

"He probably doesn't want to kill her", Sherlock reasoned. "The words he wrote indicated he wants to kill you, not her."

"I don't care." He looked at me, eyes fierce, challenging. "I'm not letting her to become the victim again."

"Why can't I decide?" I asked him quietly and he sighed.

"Because this isn't the solution."

"Sherlock may be right. He might not kill me."

"Maybe", Mycroft shifted to his other foot, "but what if he does something worse to you?"

I swallowed, looking into his eyes, my voice shaking just slightly when I spoke.

"If you got injured... or killed... that would be the worst for me."

Mycroft's gaze softened ever so slightly. Then he shook his head.

"I can't. Sherlock, work out something different. I'm not agreeing to this."

I bit my lip. This pretty much sounded final. He didn't sound like he was up for negotiation. So, then... I could wait for Adam to unfold his plans before my eyes and I’d be able to do nothing.

______

Sherlock went silent for a few minutes. He kept thinking, just as Mycroft did the same at the other side of the table.

"This could end in a different way we predicted", Sherlock said quietly, seriously. "You _could_ get killed."

"I am well aware of that." Mycroft slightly narrowed his eyes. He knew his brother just wanted to make sure of what he wished to do for her. "But we still have to try."

"I never suspected you had it in you", Sherlock mused with a small grin. "Mycroft, _loved_."

"Stop it."

Mycroft huffed. He didn't need Sherlock to add to his problems, two sides battled inside him already. Logic and emotion. Sometimes he'd wake up deciding he'd end this relationship with her, only to wonder a few hours later how to make her laugh and blush again. If only her happiness wasn’t so… _addicting._ It wasn't an easy choice for him and he hadn't decide it yet.

"Mummy will be so happy", Sherlock's grin widened even more. "When will you tell her?"

At this, Mycroft felt like Sherlock pushed a bowling ball down his throat. He barely could manage his poker face.

"Not until we've dealt with this situation."

"You're not sure if you want to stay with her or not", Sherlock pointed it out in disbelief. Mycroft rolled his eyes with a sigh. Sherlock's grin disappeared. "Are you serious?"

"I'm not the best choice for her, not even decent. I'll give her enough time to think it through."

"No, you're trying to get her..."

"Sherlock, **_stop it_**. I don't want to talk about it."

For the younger Holmes, it seemed like Mycroft wasn't entirely sure he was ready for something long term. But, he saw how the girl acted when Mycroft was even just mentioned. She was so... _thirsty_ for his presence, it was so obvious his brother must've seen it. And knowing how protective of her Mycroft was, he obviously cared more about her than he showed. Thus, Sherlock couldn't believe his brother's words.

"You're not blind, are you?" He questioned.

"I'm not." Mycroft flashed an exhausted smile which never reached his eyes, _but maybe I'll pretend that I am_ , he thought.

After Sherlock left, he went home and decided to treat himself to a little wine after the shower. As he sat in his armchair, he leaned back, closed his eyes and entered his mind palace.

His most sacred place was welcoming, bright and clean. He always started in the library and progressed from there. Usually he felt calm but now, something was different. The books? Maybe he left those few on the glass table the last time he was here... he picked them up and put them back where they belonged. For a moment, he lingered before the shelves, wondering why did he feel different.

"You're making it hard, you know?"

He turned to face her so quickly he almost tripped in his own legs. His back fell against the shelves behind him. What was she doing here? **_How..._**

"I've been here for while, now", she smiled faintly, "I just wasn't sure how you'd react to me and didn't dare to show myself."

"Get out!" He hissed. His mind palace was sacred and more importantly, empty. He was alone here; really alone. Nobody was entitled to set foot in here. Not even her. "Get out of my head!"

"I can't do that", she shook her head, walking toward the shelf next to him. She seemed much healthier than in real life. Her brown, warm orbs found his, her soft lips turning into a smile. "Stop fighting me. You really do want me to be here."

"No", he argued – rather weakly – and she laughed.

"You're lying even to yourself, Mycroft Holmes. Tell me, what's good in being so alone? What's good in not sharing yourself? What do you think, would it be truly a **_weakness_** to feel, just once?"

"Being alone protects me."

"Is it?" Her arched brow felt like a stab to his chest. "Then stop playing with her. If you know it's better this way, tell her. And I'll leave with her."

She turned and started to walk away, but he quickly reached after her, grabbing her hand, pulling her back to him gently. All the while he kept asking himself **_what am I doing?!_**

"No... don't leave... please." His throat tightened, his heart beat so fast he was sure it could be heard. She was a shadow here, but she was still beautiful. "I can't... I don't want to let her go..."

"Is it really happening? That once, you simply can't make a choice through cold logic?" She arched a brow. He looked so desperate. She entwined her fingers with his. Mycroft felt warmness in his chest and cheeks, even though he knew it only happened in his head. She smiled, so sweetly. "Isn't it worth exploring?"

He couldn't reply.

______

"Oh, yesss!" I eyed my toes, happy, wriggling them around. Only John was there with me at Baker Street, we just came back from my doctor who removed my cast. "It'll take a while to do a proper prostration, but I'm close to it."

"Prostration?" John glanced up from his laptop.

"Yes, well... back at home I did a lot of them, 108 in the morning and in the evening." He arched his brows. I waved my hand, smiling. "It's a buddhist thing."

"Oh." He didn't seem to understand, but he didn't ask more questions.

"I can't wait to get home", I combed through my brown hair with my fingers. "I miss my apartment."

Sherlock run up the stairs, slamming the door behind him, rushing to his laptop.

"I don't think you can go back there anytime soon." He said. With his presence, the room became crowded. "Not until we catch our lovebird."

I grimaced.

"Don't... don't call him like that. He's... he's rather a monster."

John glanced up at me for a moment, his worry written all over his face.

"What do you think he'll do if he managed to catch you?" Sherlock inquired, getting up and hanging his coat on the back of the door.

I swallowed and put my hands in my lap, fingers entwined.

"Well if he's not bashing my head in for all I've done... betraying him, leaving him, he'll probably do something equally horrible."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm rewatching Sherlock, right... and there's that scene where Sherlock has tons of friends at his apartment, even Greg, at Christmas. Then he calls Mycroft and he's completely alone.  
> EEEEEEEEEEEE NOT ALRIGHT.  
> Since I'm writing this fic, I have tons of Holmes bros' feels, and I just went asjkdjfkhk at that scene because I forgot I was shocked at it (Irene faked her death here and that rather kept me occupied BUT NOW). Like, wtf. No fancy party to go to? No one there to be with him? Really? At Christmas? And not even his brother invited him? He just sits by his fireplace staring at it and OH MY GOD MY SHATTERED HEART.  
> I FELT SO MISERABLE. MYCROFT DESERVES MUCH MORE THAN THIS GODDAMNIT. I'll probably rant about this more later. Because there's those scenes when he's at home and his mother is like "Sherlock Sherlock Sherlock omg Sherlock" and then there's Mycroft's face and words and AHHH. THIS FUCKING SHOW IS SO FUCKING UNFAIR TO EVERYONE IN IT.  
> MYCROFT DESERVES TO BE APPRECIATED AND LOVED AND CHERISHED.


	6. Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favourite so far. I giggled when I wrote some parts of it. :P LOOK AT THIS IT CRACKED ME UP: http://31.media.tumblr.com/1a940d88a6c7b917c38b7f3bf85fc827/tumblr_myqwxpxCS31qicspho1_250.png

"Like what?"

I bit my lip. Hesitating. Sherlock had that temperament which made him look so alive, he had that certain fire that burned everything around him. I didn't know what this fire would do to Adam if it found him. After all, the fool threatened his brother.

"He'll hurt those I like. I thought it was obvious to you."

He brought his eyebrows closer to each other and seemed like he was thinking about asking something - or staying silent forever.

"And, if he managed to... let's say he hits all of us unprepared and he manages to accidentally murder one or two or all of us..."

"No", I snapped, slightly panicking. "How can you ask something like this? That can't happen."

"But even if it does", Sherlock pushed. John looked up at him, clearly annoyed. "What would **_you_** do?"

I stared at his face and I tried to imagine the situation. When I told Mycroft it'd be the worse to me if he died, I told the truth. But what if... just what if it happens? I felt my toes and fingers going cold. If the death of Mycroft and John and Sherlock was all on my shoulders... no... I didn't realise my entire face morphed into a painful expression.

"I'd try to convince him to kill me."

These certainly weren't the words Sherlock was looking for. He pulled his chair to the couch I sat on, placing his cold, giant hands on my cheeks.

"You won't." He said firmly. "Do you hear me? You will fight."

"Why would I?" I swallowed thickly. "I already lost everything I had to him before, why must I cling to my life if he does it again?"

"Because that might be your only choice to survive", he said quietly. "Because maybe… maybe he’d try but wouldn’t succeed because we knew what he’d do. Do you understand?"

I felt an unfamiliar sensation in the pit of my stomach. It felt like Sherlock was warning me. But why couldn’t he just straight tell me? Why not share their plans with me so I wouldn’t lose my mind if they wanted to do something terrible looking for Adam to believe? I kept staring into his eyes, trying to figure him out before I removed his hands from my face. I hugged him tightly, burying my face in his shoulder to hide it from even John. Sherlock froze completely.

"Don't die. Don't even fake it to me. Please... don't do it. I can't even bear the thought..."

He awkwardly pat my back a few times. I pulled away a few seconds later. I tried to put on a poker face, wasn't sure I succeeded.

"You must fight, whatever happens, whenever it happens. Alright?" He ruffled my hair before he moved back to his desk with his chair. He turned his back to me, typing something on his laptop. "Anyway, I think you might be ready to go back to work next week. What do you think?"

"Yes... maybe." I blinked. "Wait... I can't go back to my flat but I could go back to work?"

Sherlock didn’t reply and it clicked. _Of course._ Here, Sherlock and John were around, and if I went back to work… I’d be with Mycroft.

„Don’t you think”, I started carefully, Sherlock hummed to me to continue, „it’s slightly unwise for me to be in Mycroft’s company?”

„It’s not”, he grumbled. „His presence in itself would protect you.”

I cocked a brow.

„That’d be an open provocation in Adam’s eyes”, I argued.

„Well”, Sherlock glanced up at me from the corner of his eye for a moment, with a half smirk, „you’re more clever than I anticipated. A bit slow, but not worse than John.”

I felt hotness in my cheeks. John looked like he’d throw something heavy and hard at Sherlock.

„But why provoke… oh. _Oh._ ” Sherlock grinned again, at his monitor. I bit my lip. Provoking Adam could seem like a good idea to him but it’s a horrible thing in my eyes. Sherlock might think Adam would make a mistake, that he’d slip up. „The worst thing about him is that he plans ahead”, I said quietly. „And if he’s angry, he’ll be more careful.”

„Jealousy is his biggest mistake and we'll use it to our advantage”, Sherlock pointed out. „Don’t worry about the details. I’ll handle those with my brother. You just decide when you’re ready to go back to work.”

I sighed and picked my buzzing phone up. I had a call from an unknown number. I didn't think much of it; maybe it was Mycroft calling from his business phone.

„Yes?” I mumbled absentmindedly, watching with a smile how John typed on his laptop with his index fingers.

„It’s so nice to hear your voice, love."

I froze at first, then I immediately ended the call, throwing my phone on the couch.

"Huh? Who was it?" John asked.

"He figured out my number sooner than I thought", I wrapped my arms around me, walking to the kitchen. "Anyone wants tea?"

______

Trying on clothes at Baker Street was a hard task. Not because I didn't know what to pick, but because a certain Holmes criticised everything I put on. _The colour's not good, too revealing, too boring, too red._ I wasn't sure if Sherlock criticised my clothes to his taste or to Mycroft's. In the end though, because I had not too much to choose from, I chose the one the brilliant mind dismissed only with the words _"the skirt's a bit too long"_. When I was done choosing the dress, I had to have another shower. I hated this. I hated to put on a fancy dress, put on makeup, perfect the hair and so on. I was irritated since Mycroft told me he'd take me to dinner. The entire thing made me happy of course, finally, I’d be with him, what frustrated me though was the fact I knew how fancy restaurants he liked to go to and what attire these places wished guests to have. I so hated it. This wasn't me at all. At the workplace it was alright, I was just an office worker really, but out of work — nah. I barely got out of my cheap pants and shirts. I liked to keep it simple.

I couldn't even see Mycroft in such items of clothing in my head. I could imagine though that he slept in his three piece suits and only switched to another in the morning. To come think of it, I couldn't even picture him _asleep_. When he was with me that night, he was awake when I fell asleep and probably woke before me in the morning. Or maybe, just maybe, he didn’t even sleep at all. I hoped though he wasn't a sparkling vampire.

But, well… would I really care if he was? No, I probably wouldn’t.

"So, how do I look?"

John and Sherlock spoke at the same time - the latter didn't even look at me.

"Gorgeous!"

"Boring."

"Thank you, John", I smiled at him nervously, then I glanced at Sherlock's back. "Good, Sherlock, thanks. Fortunately, Mycroft won't talk to my dress."

John snorted. Sherlock looked at him and the ex-soldier started to admire the wall with a smirk. The younger Holmes turned to face me, with a rather puzzled expression. He had a silver coloured box in his hands.

"You need a final touch though."

He handed me the box and I took it from him curiously. Opening it, it revealed a pair of obsidian jewellery; small, flat earrings in the shape of a circle. I looked back at Sherlock, my lips slightly ajar from the sudden surprise.

"Wow, Sherlock, it's... it's beautiful, thank you!" I smiled at him and he smiled back, short, before he turned back to his work.

"Just make sure you don't lose it."

"I won't, I promise." I put the box down on the coffee table, picking out the earrings and looking at them with a smile.

"And don't take them off", Sherlock added, "not even in Mycroft's palace."

I nearly dropped the earrings. Palace? _What?_ What was he on about? Did he think Mycroft would take me to his _home?_ I lifted an eyebrow; he had to be joking. I looked at him and saw he smirked again as he kept typing. Adding the earrings to my attire, I checked myself in the window, because I had no time to run for the mirror in the bathroom. I looked... pff, it could be better... not the best, for him, I thought.

Someone knocked. He was here.

"Have fun", I told the men and John wished me the same. Sherlock was too busy. I ran down the stairs with a smile — **_ran!_** Finally! I put my coat on and opened the door to greet Mycroft. When our eyes met, I could see he was taken by surprise a bit. He smiled, I smiled wider. "Good evening", I told him and he cleared his throat.

Why must he be so perfect? Why must he wear his excellent, expensive, fine pieces? This blue outfit was one of my favourites. The dark blue base had very thin, slightly lighter stripes on it, under his jacket his vest had the lighter colour, with a white shirt and a matching tie. I noticed his pocketwatch; he probably checked time before he knocked by the way it sticked out of his pocket and how the chain hung. He just combed his hair and added the finishing touch with a bit of more of my favourite cologne, one he usually used when he was in the office. He must've noticed it before I liked it. And his ey— **damn** , I totally sound like Sherlock. **Stop it!** I told myself. I spent too much time at Baker Street. I may turn into a consulting detective in the end. I almost laughed out loud when I remembered what Sherlock told me about not losing the earrings. Not even in Mycroft's...

Wait, _wait_ , **_wait_**. Is it a **date**? _DEAR ME IT'S A DATE! **WHY DIDN'T I PREPARE MYSELF MENTALLY?!**_ I was too drowned in the problem of finding a dress...

"Good evening", he smiled at me again, making mental notes of everything from my expression to my appearance. "You look absolutely stunning tonight. May I?"

 _Why must I blush so deeply every time he complimented me?_ He held a hand out for me and as I put mine in it and thanked his compliment, I thought **HAH!** Sherlock might've thought I looked boring, but Mycroft thought different! Or... didn't he? He was Sherlock's brother in the end... but better with words. Ungh. I'll never know if he's just polite or really means it. Was I just another goldfish to him? I bit my lip for a moment. _Even if I was, I was a special goldfish now, tonight. Enjoy it, damn it!_ Who knows when can I be with him again...

He led me to a dark blue car parking a few meters away and opened the door for me on the front, waiting for me to get in. I thanked and sat, realising as he closed the door that indeed he had no bodyguards or drivers with him this time. This was new. It was really just the two of us.

Just the two of us.

Literally. No one else. My brain suddenly went **_ahshfj._**

As he took his seat at the driver's, he glanced at me.

"You look nervous", he noted as he started the car. "Is it something I did?"

"No", I reassured him, "it's just..."

"You realised you're alone with me." The way he talked about things he deduced from my reactions was somewhere between calming and alarming. How will I keep up with this all night?? Will I even survive? At some point my brain will probably just freeze, or worse, blow up. "Are you afraid?"

I answered this question in my head with a question. And since I was in my head while I was under obvious pressure, I forgave myself the language this once. _Am I afraid I'd fuck up?_ **I WAS FUCKING AFRAID I'D FUCK UP.** Apparently, this was, probably, totally, written all over my face with damned glowing signs.

***** LOOK! *~ PANIC! ~* HERE!! *****

Uh, I was a disaster. What happened to my cool around him? _Where did it go??_

"I'm not afraid of you", I said quietly, then arched a brow to strenghten it, as if saying, **_me afraid? Hah, never._**

There. Better. But that predatory smile on his face? I wasn't expecting to see that. Oh dear me. _Oh, **oh**._ That was a little truly scary, a little wild and a lot of... _arousing_. I swallowed nervously, deciding I'd put my seatbelt on. He silently mirrored my movements, then he started to drive.

"Good", he replied gently, watching the street. I had time to ease into my seat and take a look at my hands while my thoughts ran around in my head, _what do I do, what do I say, what do I **think??**_ "I had to make sure." He smoothly navigated through the traffic and I couldn't help but keep my eyes on him. I knew he knew I was watching him and it seemed it was amusing for him. "Because it's going to be only the two of us, tonight."

Did he just...? Oh, _he did._ He really did. As I tried to ignore the warmth in my cheeks, I attempted a jest.

"I don't know how will I survive this evening without your brother's sarcasm."

His lips twisted in a grin. For a moment, he glanced at me. I clearly entertained him.

"I should've invited him."

"You totally should've."

He laughed with me. A layer of nervousness was washed away. It didn’t matter a thousand of other messed up layers were on my brain. Nevermind that, really. _I’ll panic, you just laugh, Mycroft._

"How do you like it there?" He asked then. "He's not awful, is he?"

"No, not at all." I smiled, genuine. "He's alright. I like to tease him sometimes. And when he forgets John left the flat and keeps talking to him, I reply." Mycroft chuckled. "For a few hours, he doesn't even notice. Then he looks all offended when he finally realises." I looked out of the window with a smile.

"It’s good you get along. He can be quite the nuisance when he’s in a bad mood.”

„I think that could be said for most people.”

I smiled to myself. We stopped at a red light and I looked at him, not knowing he kept his gaze on my face. I froze; the way his eyes scanned me was making me nervous again, but from the good kind. Can someone even get a „good kind of” nervousness?! Oh dear me, dear me, I was in deep trouble. I gently bit my lower lip and he glanced at my teeth biting at the flesh.

„Stop doing that”, he warned me quietly, his voice a bit deeper.

I suddenly felt hot in the car. I was sure the coat was too much on me. I did as he asked and he turned his head to look at the lights. I watched as his Adam’s apple moved; he swallowed and gripped the steering wheel tighter. Was I really making him nervous too, or I imagined it?

After a few silent minutes, we arrived at the restaurant. When I saw how exquisite it was, I thought I didn’t fit in here at all. I was so… **damn** , Sherlock was right. **_Boring._** Of course, Mycroft didn’t really care if I wasn’t so sure about my appearance or not, he offered his arm to me anyway as I got out of his car.

„It’d make me incredibly happy if you finally believed you are beautiful”, he told me as I moved my arm around his and gingerly got a hold of his right arm. I almost rolled my eyes. How many times he wanted me to blush? And why couldn’t he just… switch off his _I notice everything_ side? „You really don’t see yourself, do you?”

„I’m sorry?” I sighed.

We walked in, he told the staff who he was and one of the waiters quickly led us to a seperate room of the restaurant. My throat and mouth went dry. He actually booked a conference room? This would be enough for twenty people at least. The tables and chairs were removed, only one single table was inside with two chairs, candles, flowers. I bit my lower lip harder this time. Why was I here? _Damn it…_ alright, we went out before, twice, but none of the places were this… **_this…_** _fancy_. Mycroft had a good taste and he certainly liked to show off, but to me it was just another sign that we, indeed, didn’t belong together.

As my eyes wandered to the left wall where a huge table stood (why didn’t I notice this earlier?!) with all the food on it – I bet an entire family could feed themselves with all of that stuff! – Mycroft stood behind me, helping me with my coat. When he was done, he leaned closer to me and whispered in my ear.

„You’ll make this evening difficult for me if you keep biting your lip.”

I glanced at him above my shoulder just when he gave our coats to the waiter who kept his eyes on me. I cocked a brow. He quickly collected himself and nodded to Mycroft, leaving us.

„So?” He asked, taking my hands gently.

I smiled up at him, painfully, knowing he hinted at the waiter looking at me. He wanted to prove his point. I was reluctant about it. He saw things which didn’t exist, this time.

„He probably thought I looked ridiculous.”

Mycroft shook his head slightly.

„Yes, probably that’s why his pupils dilated at the sight of you and that’s why he seized me up, looking like he was a second away to ask you if you were forced into this.”

I let out a laugh, because I _kinda_ was forced into this.

„He must’ve thought I’m here because you’re rich.”

I looked down at our hands and didn’t realise how much it hurt me just until I said it out loud. This was what all people thought around me. This was why Sherlock asked me why I wanted to see his brother so badly. Even he thought I was after the money. Mycroft squeezed my fingers gently.

„I know you’re not.” He smiled slightly. I felt grateful for his words and I was happy that at least he knew. „Everything about you screams that you’re feeling uncomfortable.” My face betrayed how much it bothered me that he saw it all. I couldn’t hide anything from him and at this point I didn’t even try. Mycroft lifted a hand and touched my chin, so I looked back in his eyes. „I wish you’d see how much I want to take care of you, how much I’d like to meet all of your needs. I just wish to give you the best from everything.” He stroked a lock of hair out of my face. I was ready to literally melt into a puddle, again. He smiled faintly, lowering his hand and touching my fingers again, looking down at them. „It’s a… bad habit of mine. Forgive me.”

I wondered how other women would react to this, even if they saw nothing in Mycroft just his wealth. They’d probably cry out asking if I was insane. How many woman out there wanted to be here in my place? And why did it feel so uncomfortable to me? Maybe because I didn’t see the reason behind his intentions? But… I believed men only wanted one thing from women in the end… and all of this was just a necessary thing before they get what they wanted… that they didn’t actually enjoy the time and money being spent, they just wanted _that_ , and nothing else mattered.

But to me, Mycroft didn’t look like he just wanted me to be in his bed. He already had the opportunity to take what he wanted and he **_didn’t_**. This was our third date together… and apart from a few kisses and cuddles, he never seemed like he expected something in return for everything he provided for me. He simply enjoyed my company. My throat tightened. Why shouldn’t I believe what he said was true? Wouldn’t I give the best from everything to someone I cared for dearly? If it was the other way around and I was the rich one, wouldn’t I do the same for him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's almost too good to be true, isn't it? :3  
> I posted all I have, now I'll work on the next chapter. Hang on! Hopefully I can post it soon. :)


	7. Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a bad, bad, baaad one.  
> You'll see.  
> Trust me.  
> You shouldn't, though.  
> I will break you. ;)

„No, no… it’s okay… it’s me. I’m sorry, Mycroft.” I got my hands out of his, hugging him tightly. He suddenly froze, just like Sherlock. I rested my face on his chest, careful not to get makeup on his clothes as I wrapped my arms around his form and smiled. This felt good. This once, I didn’t care he was taller than me. „I just… think I’m not good enough. But I’ll try my best to change it…”

There was quiet music playing in the room, I didn’t realise it before. But I didn’t care about it, because on my right ear, Mycroft’s heart beat as loud as a drum. A very fast drum. My smile grew wider. I was sure he knew I heard and a second later he wrapped his arms around me gently. I closed my eyes.

„Can you hear what you’re doing to me?” He asked quietly, his voice deep and beautiful. He stroked my back and my head with his hands. I felt so safe. „And you’re thinking you’re not good enough…?”

Was this really happening? Was this reality? Or just a dream? I wanted to stay like this for forever.

„You should hear mine”, I said quietly with a smile, pulling slightly away from him, looking up in his eyes.

„Well”, he swallowed again. I thought this once, he opened up to me more than ever before. „We shall talk about it after dinner, what do you think?”

„That would be best.” I wanted to pull away from him, but instead, I put my head back on his chest. „Just a little more”, I smiled and he chuckled quietly.

I stopped thinking for a moment, trying to notice how my body reacted to this. All sorts of sensations rushed through me, all of them way too pleasant to suddenly stop this embrace. I was hungry, yes, but it was just too good to be true. After all, he finally was near me. I’m not letting him go that easily.

„Alright”, I mumbled, loosening my arms around him and he did the same.

„Did I satisfy your hugging needs for a while?” Mycroft mused.

„A little.”

 

He chuckled again then led her to the table where the food was. He carefully examined her face, not really paying any attention to anything else. After all, nothing was as important tonight as her.

_What am I doing?_

Swallowing, he let go of her hand and Mycroft realised his body and mind betrayed him. All of him literally protested against letting her go. As he tried to figure her out, he forgot he had to figure **_himself_** out first. _Come on, think rational, I won’t lose her if I… but then, how good it felt to hold her in my arms… no, it’s only a matter of time, this will fade. This is just some sort of chemical reaction. Control it._

_Okay?_

**_NO._ **

He didn’t realise he was frowning just until she stated there was too many to choose from. Mycroft cleared his throat and arranged his expression into somewhat… more acceptable.

„I wasn’t entirely sure what you liked, so I asked them to get us everything they had.”

Oh it was a gigantic lie and she knew it. He saw it on her face the moment he uttered the first portion of his sentence and the look she shot him was way too amusing for him. She knew he wanted to impress her, did she not? If all of this wasn’t part of the plan, he probably would feel bad for her.

But he didn’t. Because he really wanted her to get the best of the best.

If Sherlock never was curious about everything and didn’t doubt Mycroft’s words he wouldn’t need to take her here to see it for himself again. This made her uncomfortable. She wanted to be more than what she was because she believed she was nothing compared to him. How wrong she was… and stubborn. No matter how many times he tried to tell her otherwise, she just wouldn’t believe.

_What do I have to do to show her she’s always in my head and heart, now?_

**_Feelings._** These pathetic, irrational, raw feelings. These, sometimes, didn’t make sense at all. Mycroft sometimes would have those crazy thoughts pop in his head and he was entirely confused by them. For so long he tried to repress everything which clouded his better judgement and there he was, even now, trying to impress a woman.

And those crazy thoughts… all of them doing something with her. Something between the lines of _let’s take her home, let’s watch a movie with her and ask her what she thinks about it, show her the library,_ _she’ll love it, let’s cuddle, have a tea, or a nap together,_ and **I’ll tear Adam to pieces, no one will ever know he even existed, I’ll wipe him out of this world, he won’t touch her, _no one_ will touch her, _ever,_ over my dead body.**

And when she bit her lip. He wanted to be the one biting it and when she did, it drove him literally **_mad_**.

 _Confused?_ It didn’t even cover it.

Could he _control_ these spinning thoughts of his? **_Absolutely not._**

 

_You have to be kidding me._

He enjoyed this. I pouted, then picked up a plate and filled it with some salad and steak. From the corner of my eye I saw Mycroft getting himself something too, but I was too absorbed with the thought we actually were alone in this room and the fact I could constantly feel him around me. There was only him and I loved it.

„You weren’t sure”, I rolled my eyes, walking to the table, placing my plate down and sitting on the chair.

„It’s been a while since we last had dinner”, he replied innocently, sitting down in front of me.

„Well, maybe you should ask me out more often.”

_Did I imagine that spark in his eyes?_

„Maybe I will.”

„Good”, I picked up my fork and got some salad, then steak into my mouth. It was amazing. I looked up at Mycroft with a sly grin. „Maybe pick up some fish and chips on the street and wander around in the city a little?”

I challenged. I had to. I couldn’t even imagine him eating fish and chips. At first I thought Mycroft would be surprised, but he flashed a smile at me and I knew immediately he’d be the one surprising me, not the other way around.

„Alright, if that’s what you’d like to do, I oblige.”

_What?_

**_What??_ **

Did I hear right? I just had to ask? _I JUST HAVE TO ASK?_ **_ARE YOU KIDDING ME??_**

„Are you free next Friday?” He asked almost incidentally and I had trouble breathing. Mycroft wanted more dates. _He. Wanted. **More.**_ To avoid looking in his eyes, I stabbed my steak and pretended I was too occupied cutting it. „I could pick you up at 7.”

I cleared my throat. _Give it time, don’t look too eager. What the heck?_ **Who am I kidding?** This was Mycroft Holmes and he knew just as well as I did I was incredibly happy he wanted to be with me…

„Yes, that’ll be perfect”, I smiled, looking up at him, and I had a moment to see the anxious look on his face before he wiped it away with his confident expression. _Professional._ „And I’ll pay.”

His hand stopped. He froze. I couldn’t not notice it. I really did surprise him this time. It felt like a little triumph.

„No”, he said simply.

„Yes”, I reacted just as simply.

He sighed.

„It’s me taking you out, remember?”

I eyed him as he poured red wine in our glasses.

„I don’t really care.” I shrugged, raising my glass just as he did.

„You really are stubborn”, he narrowed his eyes slightly.

„What will you do about it?” I cocked a brow playfully and he smiled, smug.

„Change your mind.”

„I dare you.” Still with the playful looks on our faces, our glasses clanked softly. I tasted it and my eyes widened in surprise. „Wow, this… is really good.”

„Do you like it?” He seemed happy but I couldn’t really tell. I thought at this point it was something he practised for a long time, repressing feelings, not showing them. I wondered why. What happened to him which made him this… detached? And more importantly, how could I get under that ice mask he always had on? „I wasn’t sure what to pick… you usually don’t drink alcohol.”

My eyebrows twitched. I wanted to ask how did he know, but remembering how Sherlock usually starts to rant about things I did, I chose not to. He tears my life apart enough, bit by bit.

„I don’t”, I admitted. „But this is perfect, just as the dinner.” I smiled at him, honestly, not sure if he wanted to hear this or not, but maybe, _maybe_ if I made sure he knew I had a pleasant time, would he feel good? Hesitantly, I touched his hand, and he moved his fingers to entwine them with mine and then I felt it. His heart was racing again. „Everything really is perfect, thank you, Mycroft.”

He knew I didn’t fake it. He had to know. But did he believe? It seemed to me he tried to impress me so hard that he lost himself in it and he wasn’t even sure he was doing good or not. Why? Didn’t people thank him all his efforts he put into everything? I wished there wasn’t a table between us because I’d be able to tell what I felt without words better.

_Funny thing, **isn’t it.**_

„My pleasure”, he said quietly, looking deeper into my eyes than before. I bit my lip. A groan slipped out of his lips. „Stop that. _Please._ ”

He let go of my hand and resumed eating his food, so I did the same. Two glasses of wine went down and I started to feel… lighter.

„Why don’t you drink?” He asked a few minutes later, when we got up for the second course.

„It’s a… religious thing. I know it sounds bad.”

I laughed a little when I saw the look on his face. There he was again. Closer to me. My shoulder brushed his suit when I half turned to look up at him. His cologne… was maddening. My senses only could pick up his presence and my brain was overwhelmed by it. It was obvious I had no alcohol in a long time, and I wasn’t sure if it was good or bad right now. Mycroft already swept me away and the wine certainly didn’t help.

We stopped moving. He looked in my eyes and I felt the blush in my cheeks. I was burning from the inside out. For him. **Because** of him. _Could he see_ , I wondered. Did he see what his _mere **presence**_ did to me? He didn’t even need to say anything to me and I was ready to jump off of a cliff for him.

_Sentiment._

Was this the wine talking in my head or did it bring out what I truly thought and felt? My eyes wandered around on his face, I glanced at his eyebrows, on his nose, his cheeks, then his lips.

**_Kiss me already._ **

„It doesn’t sound bad at all”, he murmured, his breath caressing my forehead. I looked back in his eyes and he seemed to be closer to me this time. I purposely bit my lower lip and he took a slow, deep breath. „Are you trying my patience?”

_Oh yes._

„Not at all”, I whispered, looking innocent.

„What do you want to achieve, this time?”

„Achieve?” I cocked a brow. My heart beat so fast I was sure it’d break my ribs. But I wanted to play. „Nothing, sir.”

„Call me like that again.”

„ _Sir?_ ” I mumbled and his hands slipped on my arms, pulling me closer.

„Just so you know, when you bite your lip, you make me want to do it for you myself.” Mycroft narrowed his eyes and I felt a rush of excitement. There it was, **this** feeling… one I never felt before. I was unsure he felt the same but definitely, it existed in me. My hands slipped up on his suit, resting on his chest. His heart beating so fast again. „I’d like to have your lips for myself, to claim and conquer them… to kiss and bite and taste them until you forget who you are, in my arms…”

His voice trailed off, and I stared up at him, waiting. I wondered if he even suspected what he did to me… he probably didn’t know. I was shaking in my shoes. I would’ve disappointed him if I told him I already forgot who I was the moment he said the first sentence he told me.

I lost the game.

My hands slipped up a little more, on his shoulders, and I gently pulled him down to me to kiss his lips. His hands wandered on my back and he pulled me closer, my chest pressed to his. Mycroft held me tight, and I was happy because I was sure I could melt at any moment.

„ _Mycroft_ ”, I moaned, when he bit my lower lip.

His response to me saying his name like that was wilder than I expected. His arms locked around me like a cage and he started to explore my mouth with his tongue, to which I did the same with his. We shared small kisses before, but none of them was like this… _heated_. I was sure his arms would crush my ribcage if he held me a little tighter. I ran out of air soon but I didn’t want him to stop. I instinctively moved my head just slightly, resting for a moment to take a breath, he looked in my eyes and I was lost.

Was it eternity or just a few minutes? He moved slightly away from me, his forehead against mine, sweet pain throbbing in my lower lip, which he surely did bite, red, for me. I let out a quiet, pleased sigh.

„We should do this more often.”

At this, he moved his head and kissed me again, slow and gentle. I loved every moment of it and wrapped my arms around his neck.

 

He couldn’t say anything.

His voice was lost, just as his thoughts. It was her who kissed him first and it stopped every spinning thought in his head. He told her a second ago he wanted to do this to her until she forgot who she was, but now it was him who couldn’t tell what was going on. It was like as if someone pressed a reset or a format button in his mind, or as if everything froze in there. It was different, now. He already did kiss her a few times, but never… she never took the lead.

And it was too surprising.

In the past few days he really thought she didn’t really want him, but now… now it was as light as day. And **this** feeling… _what was it?_ Why couldn’t his heart just beat in its normal, casual pace? Why did his fingers tremble? Why were his palms sweaty? He couldn’t get his mind to work again.

_Blessed silence. One he hadn't had in ages._

It was too late, and he knew this couldn’t go on for much longer. And it pained him to know the future and how the plans would unfold.

He should tell her… but now that he felt how much he meant to her, he couldn’t. He needed her to believe… whatever she will believe.

So Mycroft just tried to tell her without words. _You **are**. You are the reason I keep fighting for. You are the reason I’ll do what I need to do. Forgive me._

_Please, forgive me._

 

He let my lips go and pulled away, his expression empty. Unusually empty. Not the _’I can’t be approached’_ one, something different.

Something wrong?

**_Something wrong._ **

„What’s the matter?” I asked, blinking a few times, running a hand in his hair.

„Nothing, dear”, he whispered gently, smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His eyes… rid of every and all emotion. Almost _dead._ „Let’s continue with the dinner, alright?”

We did. I brought myself pudding, feeling something was off, but I knew it wouldn’t matter if I asked, he wouldn’t tell. Then, he poured another glass of wine for us and he sighed.

„So you’re not drinking because of the five precepts?”

I blinked, surprised. In the end, I shouldn’t be surprised. He was too intelligent not to know about the basics of buddhism.

„Yes, though I never actually made a vow to them”, I replied and smiled. „I’ve kept myself clean for… hmm, it’s been two years.”

„But you’re not feeling bad because you drank now, right?”

„No, not at all.” I waved and chuckled a little. „I won’t burn in Hell for it. I’ll just make sure I’m not losing my head.”

_Well, good luck with that, **you already lost it**._

„You’re taking it very seriously.” He stated, voice curious.

„Yes. It made my life better.”

„In what way?”

„I’m more collected and concentrated. I feel better about myself and the world.”

„And do you believe in reincarnation?”

 _Mycroft became very inquisitive after those kisses,_ I thought. _Didn’t he deduce it all from my behaviour, my apartment?_ I had a strange feeling he just wanted me to talk.

„Hmm… if one look around themselves, can they think everything stays the same forever?” I asked back. He shook his head slightly. „Precisely. Everything changes around us. We born, live, suffer, grow old and die. But according to everything we see, we can’t really say the soul actually _stays_ dead.” I finished my food and leaned back in my chair. „If one meditates a lot, it is said one can recognise their previous lives, and I believe in that. Buddha did see them. He spoke about it. I find it very interesting.”

„Are you interested in your previous lives?” He asked before he sipped his wine.

„No”, I smiled, „I very much like my current one and I’d like to enjoy it as it is.”

That answer seemed to affect him badly for some reason. Something very bad was on his mind now but I couldn’t put a finger on what. The kiss… it made him sad. But why? Didn’t he enjoy it? It wasn’t good?

„It’s not your fault”, he sighed, reading me too well again. Mycroft buried his face in his hands. Did he do this to stop looking at my face or he wanted me to stop looking at him? It scared me. „It’s **_me_** …”

„Mycroft…” I said quietly and he looked at me with an expression which was between sadness and worry. „You’re scaring me.”

„I know.” He smiled gently. „I’m sorry…”

„What can I do to help?”

„Nothing, dearest…” He forced a smile on his face, then reached out for my hands across the table. I let him hold my fingers. „It’ll be fine. In time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I have to say is  
> HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA  
> I'M A CRAZY MADAFAKAAA!  
> And I have The Plan... >:)


	8. Bullseye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *evilest cackle in the universe*  
> I enjoyed this. <3  
> You won't. :D

When we sat in the car, I felt his bad mood coming towards me in waves. He clearly was absorbed in something I didn’t understand but I felt, **_I knew_** in my heart it had to do something with me. I cleared my throat. He stopped before a red light, looked at me and reached out for me with his hand. He gently rubbed my knuckles with his thumb.

„I’m sorry I spoiled the night”, Mycroft smiled, apologetically, and I shook my head.

„Don’t worry about it. I really enjoyed myself.”

Mycroft’s eyes narrowed, his brows furrowing and pain was written all over his features. He brought my hand to his lips.

„I’ll fix it.” He whispered on my skin.

I had a feeling he didn’t speak about tonight. He gently placed my hand back in my lap and continued to drive. I looked out of the window on my side, a lump in my throat. _What was going on?_ What could go wrong? What could he possibly think? I couldn’t find a reason why he went from being flirty to terribly shaken. We stopped at Baker Street 221B, and he stopped the car with a sigh.

„When can I move back to my apartment?” I asked cautiously.

Mycroft looked at me. It was hard to recognise the look he gave me, but his voice was stern enough for me to know.

„Not before we dealt with _him_.”

„And can I go back to work?”

Mycroft shook his head. My heart sank.

„I think the best would be if you stayed with my brother.”

„Mycroft… I know Adam threatened us, but I can’t stay locked up…”

„You’ll stay there until he’s caught.” He interrupted me with the voice he used to bark orders with. I sank back in my seat, defeated. „And I’m **not** arguing about this with you.”

My body became more responsive due to the wine. I couldn’t stop the bitter tears gathering in my eyes. It happened all over again; the arguments, the rejection…

„You lock me up just as he did. You tell me what to do and not let me to do things I’d like to. When you know exactly what he did to me, you do the same again. Maybe I was wrong.” I wiped my tears away. Mycroft stared at me, silent. „Perhaps I misjudged you.” I unlocked the seatbelt and opened the door. He looked like he froze again. He didn’t reply and didn’t move. „Thank you for the dinner. Goodnight, Mycroft.”

I got out, slammed the door and walked quickly to Sherlock’s apartment’s door. I couldn’t see from the tears. I got inside, closed the door and stayed there for a few minutes, crying silently. It seemed though that Mycroft didn’t go away, because he knocked. I tried to fix myself, wiping my tears before opening the door. He looked confused and shaken.

„I’m sorry”, he said quietly, „I just… I’m trying to do everything in my power to protect you. I don’t want you to…” He went silent, raising his hand to gently wipe off another tear on my cheek. My lips trembled. „If you really wish to come back to work, please, do.” Mycroft’s gentle words only made me cry more. He stepped closer to me, his arms pulling me closer to him to comfort me. I buried my face in his coat. „Don’t cry, dear… it’ll be alright, I promise.” He kissed my hair and cradled me.

I sniffed as I listened to his words, thinking I was too harsh with him before. He was really just worried and tried his best... I shouldn't be mean to him.

„I shouldn't have said what I said”, I mumbled in his chest. „I'm sorry. If you're feeling better if I stay here, then... I'll stay.”

Mycroft pulled away, slipping a hand under my chin to raise my head. Our eyes met. He looked serious.

„Are you sure? I don't want to force anything on you.”

„Yes. I'm sure.”

He took a second to check if I was lying. But I wasn't. I wanted to go back to work, yes, but I didn't want him to be upset about it all the time. Even if he hid it from me completely… I knew he was worried for me.

„Thank you”, he said then with a small smile, placing a small kiss on my lips. „I'll see you later, then. Goodnight.”

„Goodnight”, I mumbled back, seeing him taking a step back and letting me go.

My heart was heavy with all the feelings. I wanted to stay with him, to hide in his arms, but that wasn't possible now. I watched him as he got back in his car, looking back at me before he left. With a sigh, I closed the door and took my coat off.

Then my brain started to race. Something was wrong, or was about to go wrong. Sherlock probably knew. It'd be stupid of me to even ask, the detective wouldn't tell me just as his brother didn't. But I had a request nevertheless. I walked upstairs and saw Sherlock in his chair, curled up, staring at the glass door of the kitchen. He looked up at me, probably deducing in his head everything that happened, from my mere appearance.

 

Then — _he **frowned**._

He wasn't sure what did he expect, really. This girl definitely clouded Mycroft's thoughts but Sherlock couldn't figure out how or why. She was ordinary. Of course, she was beautiful, he wouldn't argue that, not his type though but still. What was slightly annoying that she managed to get under Mycroft's skin. She made him _doubt_ himself, to _question_ the plan, many _what ifs_ and _but thens_ asked when they didn't even exist before. Mycroft always had **_total control_** of **everything** , **_always_**. And now he sounded and looked as worried as he never did before.

_What was going on?_

„Sherlock?”

„Hm?”

„Something's wrong.” It wasn't a question. He looked up at her again. If even she noticed, then something truly was. „I know... I get all of these threats but I didn't think it'd make Mycroft...” She trailed off. He cocked a brow. _She's **worried**._ Worried for **him**. Who'd be worried for Mycroft, the Big Brother, who ordered an entire army? Was this rational? Of course she was just a woman but still, _why?_ „Look, I'd just like you to... keep him safe, alright? If anything happens. If I accidentally happen to... **_die_**.”

Sherlock looked puzzled. Would her death even affect Mycroft? _Would it really?_ He wasn't so sure that it wouldn't, now.

„Promise me this, Sherlock.” She whispered. „I want him to stay safe. I know you can do it.”

_Well, **shit**._

If things weren't complicated enough, here it was again. An obstacle. A problem. _Keep **her** safe,_ he said, _keep **him** safe_ , she said. And he was caught in the middle. What was going on, what did he miss, why did they both look so terrified something bad would happen to the other when he and Mycroft were all sure _nothing_ could go **_that_** wrong?

The plan was ready and they couldn't change it anymore. They decided not to tell her anything... and now... Sherlock sighed.

„I'll do my best”, he said quietly, looking away.

_And you’ll **hate** **me** for it._

 

Well, this is as good as it gets.

 _I'll do my best._ Not what I expected but I have to accept this, there's no one to turn to. John wasn't overly fond of Mycroft... as a matter of fact, no one really was… I had to trust Sherlock with this.

„Thank you”, I mumbled, leaving to the bathroom.

After I changed back to one of my yoga pants and black shirt, I walked down the stairs to fish out my phone from my jacket’s pocket. I completely forgot about it. But ah well, I expected I would, I even muted it. Didn’t want anything to spoil the dinner.

I was glad I muted it.

„What are you doing down there?” Sherlock shouted down to me and I cleared my throat, leaning against the wall behind me.

„Just checking my phone!”

I tried to sound nothing was wrong, but I still heard him getting up from his seat and walking to the stairs. _Shit._ I kept scrolling down on the screen, seeing I had – I almost threw up – 127 missed calls from the unknown number and 12 new messages.

**You bitch.**

**I’ll kill you.**

**I’ll get you both with your little lover and tie you up.**

**I’ll make you watch him suffer.**

**I’ll cut his eyes and tongue out.**

**You fucking stupid whore, did you HONESTLY think you could escape me?**

**I’ll never stop, you know?**

**Oh and about Sherlock Holmes and John Watson…**

**I think it’d be best if they were part of the show, don’t you think?**

**What if I slowly killed them all? And you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it?**

**And you know what? I wouldn’t kill you. I’d lock you up and you could watch them rot away.**

**I’ll tie you to Mycroft’s corpse. You’ll love it. He’ll be with you forever, just as you want, you whore.**

Sherlock confiscated the phone from my shaking hand and started to roll back to read the messages. Everything I ate threatened to jump out of my stomach. I had trouble breathing. Sherlock reached out for me with his free hand and held me firm so I wouldn’t collapse. It was a strange feeling; as if his hand was the only fixed point in reality. I didn’t realise how much I clung to it just until he commented I was about to break his arm. After he read the last message, he looked at me, but I didn’t see his face.

„Come on”, he grumbled, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and leading me back up to the living room. He sat me on the couch, grabbed something and pushed it in my shaking fingers. „Breathe into this.” It was a paper bag. I couldn’t say anything, just automatically did what he told me to. „ _Slower_ ”, he instructed softly. „That’s it, slow down, no rush.” Now I noticed he had his hand on my left wrist. He was checking my pulse. „There. It’s alright. See?” His eyes scanned the parts of my face he could see, then he pulled my hands to lower the bag. „Better?”

I nodded, still feeling nauseous, my hands still shaking, but I could hear and see him and this was much more better than a few minutes earlier. My chest hurt. I realised I was crying, my face was damp from tears. I wiped them off, every inch of me still trembling.

„Listen to me”, Sherlock said firmly, staring in my eyes as hard as he could, „listen to me well. **_You are a fighter._** You can **not** be scared so easily. Do you understand?” He pulled my phone out of his pocket and put it next to me. I started to move away, whining quietly in a high-pitched voice but Sherlock kept me where I was. „These are just _words_. All he has are just words. _Do you understand me?_ ” I shook my head frantically, trying to yank my hands out of his but he wouldn’t let me escape. „He can’t scare you to death with **_words_**. If he was here saying these to you, would you simply faint?” I shook my head again, not as fast as before. „No, right? If he truly was threatening to hurt you or Mycroft, would you let him do it?”

„No…” I whispered quietly.

„No, you wouldn’t, you’d fight.” He put his giant hands on my head, his thumbs on my cheeks. The pain in my chest slowly faded away. „You’d kick and bite and scream, because you’re **_not a victim_**. You’ll **never** be a victim. And if you ever meet him in this life again, you’ll prove it to him that he can’t scare you.” I felt Sherlock’s thumbs wiping away my tears again. „He can’t scare you. _Nobody_ can. **Ne** **ver** **again.** ”

 _I’m not a victim,_ I clung to his words as he let me go, grabbed his phone and called someone, _I’m not a victim, I’m not a victim, I’ll never be a victim ever again…_

Sherlock picked up my phone, tapped on it a few times, then he made a picture of my screen with his own phone.

„Can't the message be traced back?" I mumbled, a little light-headed.

"Maybe. If he's stupid and boring."

I groaned.

"As a special soldier to my country, he's probably neither."

Sherlock stopped whatever he was doing and stared at me.

"Special soldier?" He echoed. I blinked. Didn't I mention it? Mycroft already did his research, didn't he? He probably knew everything anyway. Sherlock stared at me looking even more bewildered, as if he read my mind. "Mycroft found nothing like that about him."

I swallowed and felt my head spinning again. I buried my face in my hands.

"He's a... sniper. Very good with it. Served in Iraq... and he had very special requests after he came back, too. That's a reason he earned his early pardon when... you know."

"You should've mentioned this", Sherlock grumbled and tapped something on his phone when I looked back at him. "We didn't find anything like this about him. He probably wiped himself out. He had all this time, too. Well, this is interesting." He walked to the door on which he always hung his coat and put it on. "Come on."

I blinked, tiredly.

"Where, why?"

"Mycroft, tell him what he needs to know." My hands trembled as he handed me my phone. I had eight new calls already. "He'll also make sure your number gets changed."

"Sherlock, it's almost midnight."

"His house is more safe. He'll also be glad to see you so soon." I blushed. He spun on his heels for the door.

"But I'm in my yoga pants!"

Sherlock already walked down the stairs when I started to get my boots on.

"He's bound to see it anytime anyway, isn't he?"

As I rose to my feet, I saw something unusual on the back of Sherlock's head. _A red **dot**?_ In his hair... my eyes widened as I, as quickly as I could, jumped up. I felt a sharp pain in my left shoulder and I let out a scream. I felt the bullet in my flesh, piercing through everything in it's path. As I fell to my knees, I raised a hand for Sherlock who turned back immediately.

"No, no! Stay there..." We stared at each other and I could swear I saw his brain worked a hundred miles in a second. He glanced at my injury, then the window behind me as I slowly moved towards the stairs, keeping him out of the attacker’s sight.

"He meant that for you", I whispered, feeling guilty as he once again, sent a text. “Warning…”

"Nevermind that. Come here, we'll leave."

"No", I moaned in pain, "he wants me to lose my head... to give in." I walked down the stairs and Sherlock took a look at my wound. The warm blood already soaked half of my shirt. "To ca..."

I cut off abruptly.

Of **_fucking_** course.

He'd start killing them all if I don't give myself in to him. But if I sent him a message...

" ** _Don't_** you even **try** ", Sherlock growled at me, grabbing my other arm and leading me down the stairs. He put my coat on my shoulders and caught a cab outside, giving strict instructions to the driver where and how to go as I absentmindedly watched a group of soldiers swarm Baker Street. They let us through and we left.

No more shots that night.

Sherlock handed me his phone. I was a little dizzy and I must've fallen asleep a little when he got my attention.

"Don't sleep", he ordered. "Talk."

"Hello?" I mumbled in the phone, wondering who could it be.

"Are you alright?" Warmness spread in my chest when I heard Mycroft's voice.

"Everything's fine, don't worry." Even to me my voice sounded too quiet, gentle and calm.

"I'm on my way to the hospital. Then..."

"No. Please. Three of us in the same place, not a good idea..."

"We'll be fine."

"Mycroft, anyone can walk into a hospital."

"Not after I locked it down."

The surprise took me for a moment.

"I already sent out a group to search for him at Baker Street. He'll be occupied, won't be able to chase us. Hospital, ten minutes." Mycroft went silent for a moment. "I miss you, stay safe for me."

I couldn't say anything, he hung up. I handed back the phone to Sherlock, feeling incredibly light-headed.

"I'm cold", I mumbled.

"We're almost there. Hang on."

I felt his fingers on my wrist again. Did I hear right he cursed under his breath, and if even so, why?

" **Stay. Awake.** " Sherlock's voice echoed in my head. "You've **_got to_** _stay awake..._ "

Stay awake.

_Stay awake._

**_Stay awake..._ **

What for? If I drifted off... if I let it go, Adam would stop, right? Mycroft and Sherlock would be safe. This would be the best thing, if I did this. If I eased into this comfortable feeling, what would Adam do? He’d have no use if he hurt Mycroft or Sherlock… it’d be no use for him if he laid a finger on them.

If I died, they’d be able to carry on with their lives, unharmed.

_Come back to me._

This warm feeling around me… my shoulder didn’t hurt, there was no pain. And of course, this was good. But what was bad that there was nothing else either. There were no signs of anything. I thought I saw Mycroft’s face before my eyes for a moment before it drifted away like a half forgotten dream.

It’s all just a dream. I’ll wake up, and when I do, he’ll be there.

But what if not? What if this was death and I already started to forget him? Forget his voice, his scent, his touch? No way…

_Please, come back._

What was this? I tried to push myself up from the darkness. But where were which? Where should I move, up or down, which was the light – and the dark?


	9. (So Called) Sister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made myself cry.  
> Ahhh. I'm such an asshole, you'll see later. :')  
> Throw me a scream in the comments, will you?

"She had a severe anxiety attack half an hour ago, was shot ten minutes after. The wound is clean, went through the bone and muscles, must've hit an artery on the way out. The bloodloss caused a shock and she passed out five minutes ago..."

He vaguely heard Sherlock's words. The sight numbed him to the bone. His brother carried her in his arms and a trail of her blood tainted the corridor. The colour of it was too dark. Both of Sherlock's hands were covered in it. Her face was pale, her lips almost blue. Eyes closed, skin around them dark. Unmoving. Unnervingly still.

With the help of nurses and doctors, Sherlock placed her on a bed and they quickly pushed her away.

This couldn't be happening.

When Sherlock turned and saw him, Mycroft knew that this time, truly, he'd lose his mind. A part of him blamed her for what happened, a part of him blamed Sherlock. But the biggest part blamed himself, his own self, for being a fool and trusting his little brother with her life.

"I asked you one thing. Only one. This **once** , just **_do it right_** ", his voice was quiet, calm, but his throat tightened and he wanted to scream.

Sherlock put his hands up in protest. Still covered in blood. Mycroft saw. He tried to press on her wound to stop her from bleeding out, he checked her pulse judging by the smeared blood around his fingers. And even though Mycroft knew he was right, he hated every inch of the sight of the proof.

Sherlock wasn't enough to keep her safe. He couldn't... he was fool enough... why did he even... when he knew his little brother had doubts about her sincerity...

And now, perhaps because of this, she'd end up dead.

_Oh God, dear God, if you truly exist somewhere, please, don't take her away from me._

"Adam wanted to shoot me. She noticed and jumped in the way."

Mycroft's always steady hand shook as he relied on his umbrella. He was inches away to lose his cool.

"I know." He pushed the words through gritted teeth.

"Mycroft, it'll be alright. I promise."

He would've laughed. Sherlock, comforting someone. Anyone. Especially him. The one the younger sometimes referred to as his 'arch-nemesis'. Mycroft turned his head, he couldn't keep his eyes on Sherlock.

"Get out of my sight."

Sherlock stood there for a few moments before he walked down the corridor.

So he stayed alone with his thoughts.

Half an hour later Sherlock wandered back and sat next to him in the corridor. They waited silently, still as if they were statues. A nurse walked out of the room. The brothers looked up immediately.

"She's alive." They didn't say anything, they already knew the details from the way she carried herself. And even though they knew, either of them could bring themselves to ask her to shut up. So she continued. "She fell into a coma after the shock. We treated the wound, it'll take about six weeks to heal. But we don't know if she wakes up."

As the woman walked away, Mycroft put both of his hands on his umbrella's handle and rested his forehead on it with closed eyes.

Sherlock watched him and swallowed. He hesitantly raised a hand — he wanted to put it on Mycroft's shoulder, but he didn't want to be sent away again. He rarely saw him so upset, and he didn't know how to handle this. So he just lowered his hand and stared forward.

"When I told her I'd bring her to your house", he spoke softly with a half smile, "she protested, saying, 'but I'm in my yoga pants'."

Mycroft let out a noise. It sounded unhuman, mixed anger and sadness and grief. His eyes stung and he wanted once again to scream.

"She's too pure for us", he whispered, voice shaking and Sherlock hummed.

"She'll be alright, brother", the younger Holmes tried once again. "She _can't_ and _won't_ leave you. I know it."

The nurses and the doctor came back, faces serious. The doctor, once again, told them what they could and asked them if they wanted to see her. They did. Mycroft gathered whatever strength was left in him and followed Sherlock.

She looked better, but probably because everything was white around her. Someone changed her clothes to a white pyjama. Her face was still very pale but her lips weren't that blue anymore. Mycroft felt his heart clench when he realised they probably brought her back from the dead. His eyes wondered on her left hand, noticing the infusion. _Her hand._ That giant needle... in her soft skin...

Sherlock didn't feel any better than Mycroft, but his older brother was too occupied with the sight to notice. The younger Holmes stepped a little closer, his warm hand touched her fingers. She wasn't cold anymore.

"You're **not** a victim", he mumbled to her, heart heavy, "you **_fight_**."

Swallowing, he let go of her hand and without looking at his brother, he left.

Mycroft stood there what felt, and probably was, hours.

___

I stared at the white ceiling. This was it? Am I dead? With a frown, I moved slightly then moaned. No, **_definitely_** not dead. The pain was unbearable.

"You're finally awake.”

The voice of a woman. Can’t remember it. She moved into my view and I blinked, confused, tried to focus.

“What’s your name?”

I mumbled my name.

“How old are you?”

I mumbled my age.

“Who were you with before you passed out?”

**_Sherlock._ **

“Alright. I'll tell Mr Holmes you’re awake."

After that woman's steps hurried away, I realised I heard that annoying beeping noise. Was this _really_ necessary? I tried to focus my eyes on my surroundings. It was very similar to the one I spent a lot of time in when my hand and leg was broken. I pushed myself up, the white blanket rolled off of my chest. _Hospital pyjama._ My lips twisted in distaste.

_Where’s Sherlock? Is he alright? I’ve got to find out…_

Twenty-something-minutes later I was about to get the infusion's needle out of my arm when the door opened again. I froze as I saw Mycroft walk in the room, accompanied by his umbrella in his complete, dark blue, striped three piece suit. I was glad to see him so soon.

"I'm so-sorry", I whimpered. My hands shook, I felt cold and dizzy. He walked over to me with a smile, leaving the umbrella at the end of my bed. "Sherlock... he... he almost..."

"Hush", he whispered gently, placing a hand on my uninjured shoulder to push me back in the bed. I let him. He pulled the blanket up on me again and sat next to me, holding my right hand between his palms. He looked at my face; I knew too well he knew everything I even thought about. "He’s fine. You saved his life. _Don't_ deny it", he raised his voice slightly when he saw I wanted to protest. "We all took this risk when we decided you'd stay there but... I didn't truly think..." Mycroft smiled at me. Did he look... proud? Pleased? Surprised? "You got in the way of the bullet. You could've gotten yourself killed there." Whatever it was a moment ago, now it disappeared and he seemed completely, utterly broken. "I could've lost you. Have you ever considered _this?_ "

I stayed silent and looked down at his hands holding mine. Honestly, no. I never thought I was this important. That I'd matter so much to him. He gently squeezed my hand.

"I... I did it instinctively", I offered as an apologise.

"I know." Mycroft sighed. "And thus, saved my brother. And I'm grateful for that. Just... don't do anything in the future I would regret." I opened my mouth to say something, but couldn't. Sherlock probably told him what he deduced from my behaviour anyway. So I closed my mouth and lowered my gaze. Mycroft leaned closer to me and kissed my forehead. "We thought you wouldn't come back." He breathed on my skin and I groaned in disbelief.

"I only was asleep for like, half an hour."

It was night outside. He was clearly overreacting this. Mycroft pulled away and stared in my eyes with a stoic look.

"To you, this time, perhaps, felt that much. To me, to us, it has been five days."

**_What._ **

"You're joking."

Mycroft smiled.

"The shock sent you down into a coma."

How could he talk so calmly about something like this? Mycroft squeezed my hand again. No... he wasn't calm about it at all. He was worried. Torn. Almost completely destroyed. He looked _so_ tired. I moved my hands to hug him but whined when the needle in my left hand moved under my skin. He saw what I wanted, he moved closer and held me. The embrace was tight again – just like in the restaurant – but he made sure he wouldn't hurt me.

"Don't do this to me ever again", Mycroft whispered in my ear. His voice was quiet, he was almost begging. It broke me. "Please."

"I'm sorry. I'll try not to", I promised, stroking his back with my right hand and hid my face in his neck. I, once again, felt his scent and warmth, and I felt like this... **_this_** was worth living for. He was worth living for. "How are the others?"

"Everyone's fine", Mycroft reassured me. He wanted to pull away to look at me but I didn't let him. "Both of them are at Baker Street. I sent a special group to catch Adam, no luck yet."

 _The slippery fish,_ I thought. Then I let him pull away. We looked at each other. I was worried for him, but he made sure I couldn't see what was on his mind now. Mycroft stroked my face with his right.

"If you need anything..."

"No", I cut him off, holding his hands once again, leaning back on my pillows. "It's only you I need."

He smiled again. _Sad._ I watched his face. Even though I should've been well rested, I felt rather exhausted.

"Rest, dearest." Mycroft whispered, stroking my fingers. "I'll be here."

___

"Let me get up."

"No. You have to stay in bed."

"For how long?"

Sherlock shrugged. I glared at him and he continued eating his chips.

"How's John?"

"Working."

I'll kill him for not talking to me as a normal person would. Or at least, punch him.

"And Mycroft? He looked exhausted the last time he was here."

"He couldn't really sleep and eat since you were injured. Now he can't sleep and eat because he's worried Adam somehow would manage to get in here. Which is ridiculous. He has an army around this hospital."

I leaned back against the pillows.

"I see _you_ can eat."

"After I got the call that you're awake, yes."

I frowned. Why? Was he worried I wouldn’t get up? I didn’t think I’d be someone he actually liked. Sherlock examined my room, his right knee bounced up and down and he devoured that chips so quickly I barely had the stomach to watch.

"You're looking anxious."

"Good deduction", he smirked at me, "and?"

I stared at him for a few seconds.

"You couldn't be as upset as Mycroft because of what happened to me."

"You know sometimes I get from people that I'm a 'freak' but I'm worse." He finished his chips and tossed the papers in my bin. "Sometimes, rarely, I really _do_ care."

"You're not a freak", I protested. Sherlock smirked at me. "Whoever calls you like that is a cruel person."

"Tell this to Donovan, she'll gladly try and prove you wrong."

My face probably betrayed what I thought about this — _oh really,_ _I'll **gladly** punch her in the face to prove **her** wrong_ — because Sherlock's grin widened.

"Come over here", I told him, raising my uninjured and uninfused arm. Sherlock looked at me with raised eyebrows before he moved to me, and I hugged him. Again, he froze. I started to get used to it. "Please do me a favour and don't skip meals and sleep because of me. Alright?"

He patted my back rather awkwardly.

"Can't promise."

He pulled away with a strange look on his face. Then he smiled at me and got up from his chair.

"I need to go, there's a maniac to catch."

"Sherlock, please, you shouldn't go after him alone..."

"I want to catch him, the sooner the better. I don't think I'll be able to do this waiting game again. And, Mycroft still looks displeased with me, I have to fix it."

"Displeased? Why?" He looked at me with that _'isn't it obvious'_ look of his and I shook my head. "It wasn't your fault, it was my choice!"

"He still trusted me with your life. And I've failed. I need to make it up to him." He swirled his coat and headed for the door when I pushed myself up, wishing to go after him.

"Sherlock, please! Don't do this! I wouldn't be able to bear the thought if... if..."

He opened the door and looked back at me with a smile.

"You just gather your strength, _sister_." He flopped his coat's collar up. "The game is on again!"

Before I could say anything else, he left. I stared at the door, confused. _Sister?_ Why did he call me like this? I wasn't his sister. I absentmindedly looked at the bouquet of flowers on my bedside table — sent by Mycroft, of course — and stroked a leaf, then picked up my glass of water and drank. _I'm not his sister... alright, maybe we could safely say I'm dating Mycroft, but..._

I spit out the water and had a coughing fit, which hurt so much I could barely breathe as a result.

_Sister._

**_Sister-in-law._ **

___

"I'm fine!" I hissed through my gritted teeth. "Get this damned needle out of me or I'll tear it out myself."

Poor nurse. She really tried her best. No reason for me to believe Mycroft didn't put in all of his intimidating tricks to make sure I get the best treatment, but this started to get ridiculous. Tenth day. Friday passed without the promised fish and chips and window shopping. He didn't show up yet. I was frustrated, lonely and **bored**. _Booored!_ _So bored._ I could've watched the telly but I was sick of it.

I couldn't even get back my phone.

"I hear you're ready to come back to Baker Street." That amused voice... I hopped off my bed and John opened the door with a smile.

"John! Save me!"

He laughed as the nurse tried to keep me near the bed. I changed back in another yoga pants and shirt. It hurt to breathe or speak, but I didn't care. The sling was bothering me, but at least it was on my left arm.

"Fortunately for you, I really came to the rescue." He walked up to me and I hugged him tight. "Sherlock's bored, you're bored, at least you can play something with him. I'm tired of him throwing everything around."

He took my left hand in his, and ever so gently, removed the infusion. The nurse whined something. We didn't care. He picked up my small bag and I slipped my feet in my boots, loosely tying them. A doctor gave me some pills, I needed to fill out some papers and we were free to go.

I spotted a few grim looking men on our way. I didn't miss the sight of their guns, either. John opened the door of a car for me and I sat in, surprised — alright, not surprised at all — someone already was in it, dressed in .

"Good morning", I said to Mycroft.

"You don't look surprised", he noted with a smile as John got in at the front, too.

"I expected you."

"Did you?" His voice low, his eyes scanning me already.

I smiled at him, then leaned closer and kissed him. _Make your deductions from this, darling._ He froze for a second, then he kissed back. Slow, gentle. I loved it. When I pulled away, I smirked, triumphant. He couldn't find his voice for three seconds. That was a new record.

"Well..." He cleared his throat. Mycroft still looked tired, but he tried his best to conceal it. With a smile, he handed me my phone. "I believe you missed this."

"I did", I smiled at my little trinket, running a finger on the mandalas on its back before I looked back up at Mycroft. "But I missed you more. And couldn't even text or call you."

"I'm sorry, dear", he smiled apologetically. "I applied a few modifications to it. Don't ask", he smiled even wider, "you don't really want to know."

I nodded. I suspected what he meant. He was probably able to track me down with it and who knew what else... but I really didn't care. He kept me safe with it.

"I never even thanked you properly", I mumbled.

"Don't worry about it."

"And the flowers, the hospital..." I didn't pay attention to his words. He wanted to protest again but I kissed him again instead. Mycroft snaked an arm around me, gently stroking my back and pulling me closer. I pulled away for a moment. "Thank you", I pecked his lips, "so much..."

"If you keep doing this I might never let you go again", he warned, biting my lower lip playfully.

"Kidnap me then", I teased. I heard he held his breath back. I looked in his eyes. "I won't even protest."

"Careful what you wish for, dearest."

"I know what I wish for, sir."

His eyes lit up with an unusual, unknown emotion.

„Reconsider it”, he whispered, kissing my forehead before he let me go. I looked at him puzzled before the door opened next to me. „See you later.”

„How much later?”

His lips twitched slightly upwards.

„Not much. Promise.”

There it was again. The air. It was heavy. What could go on in his genius mind? When will I finally understand what was this weight on his shoulders?


	10. On the Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exactly 3000 words.  
> You do realise this is all too good to last long?  
> Hehe. Hehehehehehe. >:)

It was dark.

Darkness was something he got used to all these years. He lurked in the shadows, never abandoned them, he could’ve sworn they were a part of him now. His black, wavy hair shielded him from the curious glances as his bright blue eyes scanned the street.

He was tall, about six feet six inches. It wasn’t easy to hide for him, but he still could manage. He entered the shop and walked down the aisles, looking like he browsed the shelves, when in fact, he was after someone he wished to know better. He made it look like an accident when he bumped into him.

„I’m terribly sorry”, he spoke, perfect British accent, velvet voice, gentle and careful. The smaller man groaned and leaned down to pick his bag of chips up from the ground. „I didn’t see you coming down this aisle.”

„Nevermind”, John Watson sighed, looking up at the man. Their eyes met. The blue eyed one smiled, John, on the other hand, felt something was off. As a matter of fact, he knew a soldier when he saw one. „Must be hard to navigate when you’re this tall.”

„Yes”, the man laughed a little, „I was wondering… I’m not very familiar with these parts of the city, could you show me where can I buy good coffee?”

John narrowed his eyes. His nerves told him something was wrong, but he couldn’t put a finger on what exactly. He should’ve listened to Mycroft and carried his gun everywhere. He would feel much safer now.

„Sure thing. There’s one near the corner.”

„Mind if I come along?”

„Not at all.”

Ever the polite, John agreed, and the man behind him smirked darkly just when Watson turned his back to him. The tall shadow followed him out of the shop after John paid, and they started to walk down the street together.

„It’s nice outside”, the man mentioned and John nodded.

„No rain in the past few days, that’s something to be grateful for.”

„Have you been living here for a long time?”

„A couple of years, actually.”

The tiny hairs on the back of John’s neck stood up. His instincts never lied to him and he knew better than to shrug it off. He glanced at the dark man who glanced back at him with his bright blue eyes and dashing smile.

„And you?”

„Hmm, I think I’ve been here for about six years.”

Six years? Why did he feel something was odd about this? John rolled his shoulders forward and reached for his phone, thinking. Six years… who mentioned…

**_Oh no._ **

_He knows,_ the tall man thought, staring intently at John’s face with a hungry expression. _He knows it’s me. The bitch talked about me to **them**._

„Six years is a lot of time.”

„A lot, indeed.”

His whisper sent a shiver down John’s spine.

„And what’s your name?” The tall man asked, though he knew.

„John Watson. And yours?”

The tall man suddenly stopped so John did the same and looked back at him.

„The bitch already told you, _didn’t **she**_?” Before John could even think, Adam punched him in the face. „The fucking whore!” He hissed and grabbed John’s jacket to pull him to a darker, more abandoned area. That was the moment the ex-soldier started to fight back. Adam growled when John punched him back between his ribs, but he managed to toss John across a few paper boxes. Adam towered above him and he yelled, but nobody was around to hear. A boot landed in his stomach and he rolled on the ground, his back hitting the wall. „Aren’t you cute. Can’t even protect yourself. I should’ve started with Sherlock, he might even be easier…”

John stumbled to his feet and jumped at Adam, pushing him over. They fell and moaned at the same time, hands and fingers scratching clothes to find the other’s neck. John growled and knelt on Adam’s chest, pinning him to the ground.

„You really are crazy”, he panted, trying his best to keep Adam pinned to the ground with little luck.

Then – his phone started to ring. Their movements stopped for an awkward moment before Adam quickly pushed him off of him and he started to run away. John followed – only to lose him two corners later. He panted and picked up the phone, leaning forward and stroking his aching face with his hand. He smeared a little blood.

„He was here Sherlock”, he almost yelled, „he was here and attacked me.”

„Where are you?”

„Five minutes.”

He hung up and groaned, pushing a hand to his side before he straightened himself and walked back to Baker Street 221B.

„I’m fine, fine, don’t worry”, he grumbled as a female arm hugged him tight just as soon he stepped in the door. He looked at Sherlock above her shoulder and as he pat her back, he sighed. „I should’ve listened to Mycroft. If my gun was with me…”

„How did he look like?” Sherlock inquired.

„Pale, white face, blue eyes, black, shoulder-long wavy hair. British accent. He’s very tall and strong.” She suddenly held him tighter. „Alright, you’re starting to suffocate me now.”

„That’s it”, Sherlock whispered, staring forward, clearly not seeing anything or anyone. „It’s time.”

„Time for what?” She asked, pulling away from John finally who could go to the bathroom to clean himself up.

 

Sherlock looked at me and his eyes were burning. I never saw him looking at someone like this and it made me uncomfortable. What brought this out? _John._ His friend, his only and best friend. This triggered something that was much more dangerous than I imagined. This was a part of him I've never seen before. Sherlock looked deep into my eyes.

„You need to be ready”, he said quietly, "because after the holidays, we'll catch him. We'll set the machine to motion. And you must be ready for it."

I swallowed and looked back at him worried.

"Well... I won't go anywhere during the holidays, so we might as well..."

"What are you talking about?" Sherlock looked back at me above his shoulder. "Of course you will. Didn't he say?" Suddenly, a smirk spread on his face. "He didn't. Ahh, I'll love this."

"Didn't who say what??" I asked back but he said nothing more. "Sherlock!"

No matter how many times I asked, he wouldn't tell me. Days went by, November ended, my shoulder still wasn't perfect. I groaned for the thousandth time at my laptop.

"What?" John asked, probably tired of my growling.

"I _hate_ Christmas", I closed my laptop with a grumpy face. "I never cared about it, I never bought anyone any presents, I always spent it at home, alone."

"She doesn't know what to get for Mycroft."

"Thanks for the input, Sherlock!" I threw a pillow at the detective. "I hate it. All the joy and tree and... _mirth_."

"But Christmas is when you get together with your family and friends." John protested. "It's about being together and sharing a nice evening. Giving, receiving... have some fine dinner..."

"I don't have a family or friends." John looked back at me, slightly hurt. I sighed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. I just always ignored it and have absolutely no idea what to do with it."

"You won't be alone this Christmas, I can guarantee you", Sherlock kept clicking on his laptop but I still saw he was grinning at his screen.

"Yeah, I'll be here, big deal. Probably will hide in one of the rooms, pretending I don't even exist."

Sherlock turned to look at me with a grin.

"Not even close."

"Alright, I've had enough, what do you know?"

"Can't tell."

"Arrrgh I'll strangle you in your sleep!"

I got a new message. I quickly picked up my phone. We only communicated through messages with Mycroft lately, even though he said we'd meet soon.

**Lunch? - M**

I nearly dropped my phone. I quickly got up and got my boots on.

**Yes, please!**

**Come outside, then. - M**

I nearly jumped to the window and saw his black car waiting there.

"Gotta run", I said with a smirk and headed for the stairs.

"Where?" John asked and I heard Sherlock mumbling something to him, so I didn't stop to answer.

I quickly got my coat on, checked myself in my phone's selfie camera – because why not, technology can help sometimes –, and tried to catch my breath. _Come on, it hasn't been long... just, like... a little more than a week, uh._ He has to stop doing this to me. I cleared my throat and walked out, closing the door after myself, smiling at the driver who held the car's door open for me. I sat next to Mycroft.

Yes, finally, good. He looked better. Not that tired, not that pale. We spent a few moments sizing each other up, then he gently got a hold of my right hand – closest to him –, raised it and kissed it.

"I hope you're feeling better." He said quietly and I smiled.

"Now that I see you, yes."

I already managed to get under his mask. His eyebrows moved towards each other, just slightly. He lowered his hand with mine and entwined our fingers. I snuggled closer to feel his warmth, our thighs touched. He didn't move an inch. I felt ridiculously safe and happy now.

"I missed you", I said quietly. "I wish you'd come and see me more often."

"I'm sorry, dear. I've been very busy." His thumb stroked my skin and for a moment I wished he could carry me around all day in his pocket. Which was, slightly, a funny thought. Though, I'd love it. A smile crept on his face. "Maybe I'll kidnap you for the holidays."

At this, even though Sherlock hinted at the fact I wouldn't be alone, my brain went **_ahshdjjdf_**. I felt the blush in my cheeks. _'Kidnapping'_ me for Christmas. That's at least three days. Three, complete days with Mycroft. That'd be more than any time I spent with him so far.

I've been silent for too long, his smile slowly disappeared. He probably thought it wasn't a good idea. _Quick, say something!_ But my brain still was frozen, with **_Mycroftthreedays_** set to loop. So I did what I could to reassure him I liked the idea - and I did what I usually used to when I couldn't find the words. I kissed him. This time, his reply was swift and hungry and pleading, almost demanding. I kissed back, nearly desperate. I moaned in his lips and he squeezed my hand.

"I take this as a permission that I can", he whispered when he broke away from me. Our eyes met. "Though, I'd take you with me either way, whether you like it or not."

I blushed deeper. _Oh yes._

"Take me - where?"

"That's a secret", he smiled again, "you'll know in time."

I thought, for the first time in my life, I was waiting for Christmas. It was slightly weird. I took a few moments to think about the holidays in my life before. He stroked my hand. I looked up at him apologetically when I realised memories took me back for a few seconds. I knew he saw something was on my mind and I didn't wait for the question.

"I never really had nice holidays. I grew up in an orphanage and always hated Christmas." I shrugged with a smile. "After I got out of there, I always locked myself up in my apartment and didn't even care about the world."

He took a few moments to think about what I've just said. Then, Mycroft kissed my hand again.

"I hope it won't be that bad with me", he smiled slightly. "I usually can't wait for it to pass, but... it's different now." He looked at our hands and I understood he waited for it at least as much as I did.

"It'll be perfect, if you're around."

I couldn't let the words from spilling out but the eager kiss I received as a reward was totally worth it.

"I can't believe the things you say sometimes", he said quietly when he broke away from me, his features torn with pain again.

"Why not?" I mumbled, light-headed.

"Because I see that you're **_not_** _lying_." Mycroft pulled away more so he could look at my face properly. "You mean it. _Everything._ That you _really **are**_ happy to see me and that you _want_ to be with me. And I don't understand why."

I frowned. He really didn't understand. Interesting... it must've been hard. He figured out people, it was a part of his job, part of his life, and here he was, wondering why someone wanted to be with him. I remembered what he said to me once. That I worry about him, out of all people, as if it was something special. The way he froze every time I kissed him when he didn't expect it.

"It must tear you in two", I whispered with a smile. Mycroft looked at me, his eyes giving away this was the case. My smile grew and it was me this time who stroked his knuckles. "Isn't it enough that I'd like to be with you? Wouldn't be it simpler to accept this and not trying to figure out why?"

The look on his face betrayed he was in agony because of my questions. I understood that he simply **had to** figure out everything, he **had to** know and understand everything.

"There must be a reason to it", he looked out of the window. For the first time, he looked downward frustrated. "And whatever it is, it's not physical attraction for sure."

"No?" I almost burst out in laughter. He glanced back at me and I really started to laugh, telling him the same thing he told me ages ago. "You really don't see yourself, _do you?_ " No. He didn’t believe me. The look he gave me was so doubting it almost hurt. „Don’t tell me you have no idea…”

„About what?” Mycroft narrowed his eyes.

I leaned back in the seat with a sigh. How come he didn’t see? His _own_ charm? How could _that_ escape his observing gaze? It was almost unbelievable. I could’ve sworn I saw other women stare at him in awe when he walked down the corridor in the office. Seriously. Formal attire was a must there but Mycroft surpassed everyone with his own. Especially because he did wear the most expensive Italian pieces – and damn he did wear them well. I’m not used to say such things, but **_Heavens._** He just needed to show up somewhere and the time itself stopped.

„Don’t tell me you have no idea that half of the office is in love with you.” I arched a brow and he smirked so quickly I knew he thought I was joking. „No, seriously! You really don’t know?”

„This is a very bad joke, dearest.” He said quietly, his voice almost disappointed.

„No, _really!_ ” I protested. „There’s Jenny, she can’t take her eyes off of you and loves the way you walk with your umbrella. Then there’s Hillary… she said she’d make good use of your ties… to tie your wrists to her bed.” For the first time, Mycroft started to laugh so suddenly and hard I thought he’d burst. His laughter was contagious. „Then… then there’s…”

„No, enough! I don’t even want to know.”

We laughed together for a few more seconds before we calmed down. The joy in his eyes made me so happy. I pulled his hand in my lap and put my head on his shoulder, looking at our fingers entwined.

„This made me think about something, though”, he said quietly. I hummed. „I still can’t figure it out. What do _you_ see in me?”

I smiled.

„Maybe one day, I’ll tell you.”

He let out a moan and I giggled.

„And when did you realise you liked me?”

I bit my lip and blushed, happy he didn’t see my face.

„On my second day at the office.”

„Why the second?”

„Because I was too tired on the first to notice how kind you were with me. And intelligent. And…”

 _Many more._ Punctual. Precise. Neat. Clothes always spotless. And kinda old fashioned…

„And?”

„And many more.”

„That’s not fair, you know.”

„What’s not fair? What else do you want to know?” I looked at him with a gentle smile. „What can’t you see?” I pecked his nose. „Everything is right under your nose.”

Before he could say anything else, the car stopped. We both were displeased, but still pulled away from one another. I was curious where did he bring me this time. After we got out, I realised that this once, he brought me to a completely ordinary restaurant. This was, in itself, very strange indeed. I finally didn’t feel like an ugly little egg, because people here wore jeans and shirts inside. It was a nice, little restaurant, both of us were a little overdressed for it. I walked over to Mycroft with a grin on my face and he smiled too, when he saw how happy this place made me.

It was a little windy and cold, the Thames flowing right in front of the building. As we walked inside, I noticed the staff already knew who he was and I almost rolled my eyes. Must he really plan each and every move of his? Where’s the spontaneity? Then I remembered our current situation with Adam and everything and realised it’s better if Mycroft plans everything ahead.

They led us to a cozy little corner. Mycroft took my coat and I smiled as I sat down. Next to us was the window and we could watch the river and the people outside. I loved it. I didn’t realise Mycroft was watching me after he sat down, the sight mesmerised me.


	11. Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love torturing our heroine. And our hero.  
> And our counter-heroes. Sherlock is an absolute sweetheart though, isn't he?  
> Did you know in my head Adam looks like Tom Hiddleston from OLLA?  
> Hehehe. Hehehehehe.  
> I love this fic. Too much angst but ah well. That's what I promised you folks, wasn't it.  
> Even I am curious when would Mycroft lose his shit.

My thoughts ventured to places they never should’ve.

Just how much time did I have with Mycroft? Who knew what would happen if they really had a plan and they’d start doing the steps of it? Why did Sherlock always tell me that I needed to be ready and needed to fight if they were sure they’d be able to catch Adam without dragging me into it? I wasn’t safe. We all knew that. And frankly, none of us were. Even if bulletproof glass was installed on Sherlock’s apartment, still anything could happen. Even here. Even now. But still… _how much time did we have?_

My throat tightened and the pain in my chest returned as I looked at him. There must’ve been something – or to him, everything – written on my face, because he reached out for my right hand. _I can’t lose you,_ I thought, _I just **can’t** …_

„Are you alright?” He asked then quietly, and I nodded quickly. Maybe too quickly. „You went as pale as the snow.”

„I’m alright, just… I always worry about you.” I bit my lower lip and couldn’t stop the tears gathering in my eyes.

„I have a lot of people protecting me, dear”, he said softly, „worrying about me is illogical.”

„I have a lot of people protecting me too, and you’re worrying about me as well.”

„That’s different.”

„It’s not.”

We stared at each other for a few moments.

„I _promise_ it’ll be fine.” His words only made my pain worse. Mycroft squeezed my hand. „I **_will make it_** fine.”

„You do know protecting my life serves no purpose if you put your own in harm’s way?”

I saw these words got under his mask again.

„It’s worth it if you’re staying safe afterwards.”

„No.”

He squeezed my hand harder this time.

„I’d do everything to know you’re safe in the end.”

„I know. And I don’t want you to do everything. That’s the whole point.”

„Why don’t you want me to do everything?”

I heard in his voice it pained him that I said something like this. I swallowed, throat tight.

„Because if I lose you… without you… I don’t want this life.”

He stared, I could see in his eyes his mind was working a million miles a second.

„You can’t think or say things like this”, he said then, his voice sounded defeated and painful. „Just… _don’t_.”

"But it's true."

I didn't know a lot of things. I wasn't as clever as him, I couldn't see things he did, I never would be as important as he was, but I knew this for sure. If he ~~— please don't —~~ _dies_ , I won't cling to my life either. Not anymore.

"You have to promise me..." Mycroft seemed torn between the things he wanted and the things he didn't want to tell me. I knew he wanted to keep the plan a secret with Sherlock and it was fine for me. "That you won't harm yourself in any way if I... _pass away._ "

_There._

**He said it.**

It was **_possible_**.

He genuinely took it into account with Sherlock that he might die. **There's a possibility** I might lose him forever. I had trouble breathing. I didn't realise I was hyperventilating, nor that my hand under his started to tremble. My vision blurred.

Adam might take Mycroft away from me and I wouldn't be able to do anything against it, just as he wrote to me he would. He'd destroy my life again and again, until nothing was left for me just bones and ashes and darkness.

And me alone with this unbearable pain.

I didn't know when did I get to the floor or when was the moment Mycroft started to talk. His left arm hugged me tight, his right was on my left wrist, checking my pulse.

"It's alright, just listen to my voice. It's fine, it's alright... breathe. Slow, dear. Slower..." My still shaking right hand moved up on his back and I buried my face in his shoulder. I was crying and I just noticed. "That's it", he whispered in my ear gently, rubbing my back. "It's alright. Everything's fine."

"No-nothing is f-fine", I whimpered and he ever so gently let go of my wrist and wrapped his other arm around me, making sure he wouldn't accidentally hurt my shoulder.

"Listen to me, dearest, you're not getting rid of me so easily. And that, _I can_ promise you." I sniffed quietly, clenching his suit between my fingers and he stroked my head. "I don't want to leave you in any way. Dying, of course, is not part of my plan." He tried to move away from me but I didn't let him. "I really just want you to promise me that it's not amoung your plans either."

„I just… don’t want to…”

Muffled noises left my throat and I felt pathetic. Nothing even happened yet and I fell apart, shattered, like glass, right before him. It was awful for me that I couldn’t control it, the weight of guilt was heavy on my shoulders. I moved away, carefully avoiding eye contact, rubbing the tears away from my eyes.

„It’s alright”, he repeated quietly and I shook my head. „It’s something you can’t control. Don’t blame yourself for it.”

My throat tightened and I wanted to cry all over again. He was crouching next to me but I was sitting on the floor. I got up quickly.

„I need…” I mumbled, walking away for the restroom where I put my hands under cold water.

I splashed some of it on my face to cool myself down. I stared at myself in the mirror. _Great_ , I thought. _This definitely makes him want to be with me. I’m ruining everything._ A part of me wanted to sneak out of the restaurant but I was too weak to put him through that, so I walked back to him. When I sat, I avoided eye contact. _Caring is not an advantage. Alone protects me._ It was in these moments when I truly understood those words. Both of them were so right. This is not an advantage, it just adds to the pain and complications.

I should… I had no idea what I should’ve done at this point. I was in too deep. Someone placed the fish and chips before us and I picked up a piece of chips.

„We shouldn’t see each other again”, I whispered, swallowing.

As I said it, the pain in my chest returned. **No…** not good. This is not good. I couldn’t do this either. Mycroft sighed deeply. We ate in silence for a few minutes.

„I know”, he replied just as quietly.

„We shouldn’t meet again.” I pushed my fork into the fish slowly. „We should finish it right here and now to avoid the pain.”

"I've tried." Mycroft's quiet voice made me to look in his eyes. "I thought about every possible solution already."

"Yeah, because that's what you do. You _think_." I grimaced at my food. "Like other people don't do that sort of thing."

The silence stretched wider between us and I realised I could drive him away with this... but I wouldn't outsmart him. He'd know why am I saying what I'm saying. It was useless. All of it. **_I_** was useless. I trapped him in this situation and he was stuck with me and he'd either die or he'd need to be with me.

Mycroft deserved better.

A more clever, a more beautiful woman. One who had no anxiety attacks. Who wouldn't whine about the expensive restaurants. Who wouldn't force him into danger with her mere existence.

"You're just saying this—"

"Don't need to tell me why, _I know,_ thank you."

He didn't seem my words affected him in any way.

"I know you're upset and you have every right to be." There it was again, this gentle, understanding voice. It started to annoy me. "But if it happened the other way around, you'd do the same. You already protected Sherlock with your own flesh and bone." He nodded at my left shoulder. "And we both would do the same for you."

I started to feel upset again. I continued eating until not much of it was left. I remembered how Sherlock called me sister and it made me literally sick. They couldn't think of me as family. I didn't even understand what family was. I never had one. When we were finished, I wiped my lips and looked in his eyes and I saw he tried to figure me out again.

I needed to plan something, fast and alone. Both him and Sherlock read me too well. I’d need to lure Adam away from them and play the end game without them.

"This was very good", I complimented the food.

"I'm glad you liked it."

I knew he saw I was already onto something but didn't mention. He sighed, reaching for my hand again and bringing it to his lips.

"Please, don't punish me for wanting to protect you.”

I swallowed. Because it really wasn’t fair. I wanted to have a simple, normal life with simple, normal people’s hardships. Ones like, _oh I ran out of milk_ and _I forgot to buy shampoo_. But no. I just _had to_ have a sadistic, manipulative and obsessive man after me. With a sigh, I shook my head.

“I’m sorry”, I said quietly.

“It’s alright. It’ll be over soon, I promise.”

The bad thing about his promises were that they were really kept. I knew he’d finish this as soon as possible, and I knew we had to have a Christmas before it’d go down. The thought I’d have this one Christmas with him and there was a possibility it’d be the only one in my entire life brought back the pain in my chest.

In the following days, it didn’t cease at all.

I had to wait until Sherlock went to bed or fell asleep at his desk and those were the hours when I could really think about anything I could do to prevent those two trying to die a hero’s death for me. I stared at my phone – it’s been more silent than ever. No new messages or calls from Adam since Mycroft modified it. I was sure it had some sort of tracking device in it, so I tucked it under my pillow, muted. On the third night, around three in the morning, when Sherlock went to bed completely exhausted and John fell asleep in his armchair, I made my move.

I walked down the stairs, paying extra attention to the creaking ones, chewing on my lips hard as I progressed, not to wake anyone up. I put on my coat and scarf, and safely exited the house. When I was outside, I made sure I’d be closer to the wall so if anyone checked, wouldn’t see me. I still had my nerves on edge because I could’ve sworn someone was watching me.

I ran down Baker Street in the freezing cold, wrapping my scarf around my neck a little more tight with my right. I walked fast. _Where are you?_ I looked in the faces of the very few people of the night, some of them on the way to work and some of them going home from a party and I kept thinking, _here I am, all you have to do is grab me._

 

Mycroft turned on his other side in his bed with a moan. His phone was ringing and he swore he’d strangle whoever bothered him at this hour.

„Yes?” He grumbled, so tired, he couldn’t even keep his eyes open.

„Sir, she left Baker Street.”

„What?”

„She left her phone at the apartment and walks straight out of the safe zone.”

It was nice and warm under his blanket but at these words he could feel his body went numb and as cold as ice.

„Is anyone with her?”

„She’s alone.”

_Oh no you don’t. You don’t! You **can’t**!_

„Then stop her!” Mycroft hissed before breaking the line.

He tossed the blanket off of himself and sat up. He couldn’t feel his body. As he walked to his wardrobe, he called Sherlock.

 

He watched as she walked down the street.

She was so careless it was almost impossible. Adam grinned. She was clever but she was also, always so… stubborn, headstrong even. He loved it. The Holmes brothers provided everything so he wouldn’t be able to reach her but she understood her presence was danger to them so she… made her move.

She was _so_ predictable.

He turned with his bike and accelerated it to stop next to her. She froze immediately when she recognised him even under his helmet. He looked in her startled eyes; she was still so beautiful, so fragile, so cute. He’d hate to shatter this pretty face. But he had to. She betrayed him and she deserved every second of pain he had in store for her.

„It’s good to see you finally came to your senses. Get behind me”, he ordered. She didn’t move. Adam reached out with his left and grabbed her sling, pulling her closer to him forcefully. She let out a painful whine. „ **Don’t** get _clever_ ideas now. You’re **mine** and no one else’s. You **can’t be** anyone else’s. **Don’t** make this **_worse_**.”

 

When I realised this was the worst idea of my life, it was already too late.

„Please, don’t hurt me…”

„I haven’t hurt you **_yet_** , _have I_?” Adam growled at me. In fact, he already did; my shoulder caused me too much pain. I stared in his blue eyes under his helmet and I tried to pull away from his grasp but he held the sling so tight I had no chance. He pulled me even closer, my chest against his, his other hand already on my neck, choking me hard, bruising my skin. „Do I have to **remind** you how much **_I hate_** _defiance?”_

I panted. This was all too real. As if this six years without him never even existed. I was there again. I couldn’t escape this loop.

„Please don’t hurt them”, I begged, „I’ll do anything you want, just… don’t hurt them.” I saw his eyes lit up with the crazy when I started to whimper but I still had to ask him this. „There’s no reason for you to do anything to them. It’s me you want, right?”

„I want you to **_repent_** , sweetheart”, he purred, „I want you to feel sorry for leaving me. I want you to feel sorry for sending me to jail. I want you on your hands and knees **begging** for my **_forgiveness_**. And I know how much _better_ you cooperate if I have those at my fingertips who’re important for you.” He squeezed my throat and I tried to push his hand away, to no avail. „So I’m afraid, they’re **necessary** actors in our play, love.”

„No, please”, I begged, tears already in my eyes.

That was the moment when I heard the chopper above us.

Sherlock really didn’t joke when he said Mycroft had an army around the hospital when I was there. He probably still had the men for action. In mere seconds, we were almost completely surrounded. Adam glared at me then let me go; speeding up with his bike and disappearing into one of the streets. A lot of cars and the chopper went after him.

I wasn’t even sure this was real. It felt like I wasn’t in my body.

Someone came to me and told me to go with him. My heart jumped up in my throat when I realised Mycroft knew, he _knew I left_ and he must be completely upset with me. I stopped and refused to walk back to 221B. He made a call and gave me his phone to talk into it. I couldn’t talk.

„It’s alright”, Sherlock’s voice was so overwhelming I almost collapsed. I started to sob. „It’s alright, everything’s fine. Please come back. Mycroft needs you.”

„No”, I whined, „he’s upset with me…”

„Absolutely not. Trust me. Come back home.”

 _Home._ He said home. I laughed shakily. He was manipulating me again.

Somehow, we still managed to get back. I couldn’t walk up the stairs after I entered the door, but I never needed to. I was in Mycroft’s embrace before I could even blink. I couldn’t say anything, just clung to him silently. I was unharmed, really. Just a little scared of what could’ve happened. His arms slightly shook around me.

„I’m sorry”, I offered but he said nothing. I swallowed and buried my face in his shoulder. „I’m really sorry, Mycroft.”

„I know”, he whispered. His voice betrayed how broken he was. It tore me apart. I held him tighter and in response, he did, too. „I’m… I have no idea what to do.”

This scared me even more than Adam did before. He pulled away from me, whispering _alright_ to himself. Mycroft’s eyes were empty, his face rid of every emotion. I wasn’t prepared for whatever was coming.

Would he tell me now that it was over? That he couldn’t continue it like this, now, that he couldn’t even trust me? Anxiety filled me up slowly, from the pit of my gut. My hand shook on his arm.

I regretted a thousand times I did something stupid like this.

„That’s it”, he said quietly, his voice stern now and I was sure he’d tear me apart with whatever he was going to say in the next second. „Give me your word that you’ll never, ever, do this again.”

I was prepared for a lot of things and dreaded a lot of others, but I didn’t think he’d say something like this. My eyes widened slightly.

 „I’m sorry?” I mumbled, blinking confused.

„Give me your word you won’t do anything _silly_ and **_reckless_** like this ever again.” When I still didn’t say anything just stood there befuddled, he sighed heavily. „I want to hear you say it. Because I **never** again want to wake up to news like this.” His face now started to show his real emotions. He was angry, disappointed and hurt. „Do you have _any idea_ what I went through? Can you even **_imagine_** how it feels? You made me feel like I was powerless, again. I wasn’t sure if I could make it here fast and I had no idea what’d be **_left of you_ ** by the time I got here.” He got a hold of my right arm and squeezed it tight. „So before I lose my patience, promise me you **won’t** do this again.”

My lips quivered. I knew if I gave my word I’d need to stick to it because I wouldn’t be able to break it.

„ _Leda, **please**!_ ” Mycroft snapped and I almost jumped out of my skin.

„I’m sorry, I promise”, I whimpered. „I won’t do anything like this again. I promise.”

And at that, he wrapped his arms around me again.

„Remember this the next time you’re thinking about putting your life in danger”, he grumbled in my ear. „Remember it well.”


	12. Hunting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3395 words.  
> I'm in a generous mood today. C:

I was rather slow. It took me an hour and a half to realise what Mycroft made me say.

 _Putting my life in danger._ If things go wrong and I’d like to end my misery… I wouldn’t be able to. Suicide was pretty much dangerous to one’s life, surprisingly. My beliefs already questioned my future intentions – the buddhism viewed suicide as a foolish act. Taking one’s life when we’re given the chance to reach the Nirvana is rather stupid. Humans are in the fortunate state they can reach enlightenment. Also a big deal of baaad Karma.

Not like I cared about Karma or Nirvana at these days.

Mycroft became way too important to me. And I couldn’t do anything but wonder about the cost of it all. How my seizures happened more frequently was in fact a sign that I started to slip. My sanity was at cost. And not just because of Adam – even the thought of losing Mycroft triggered it already. I never needed to be a genius to figure out what would happen to me if I lost him.

**No, it just _can’t_ happen.**

For the following nights I was allowed to sleep in Sherlock’s bedroom. Not because a certain consulting detective thought the couch was uncomfortable to me – it was –, but because he always closed the door behind me and if I wanted to leave the room again, I’d have to deal with all the creaking the door made. It’d wake up even a dead man. His window wasn’t an option either. So, they made sure I couldn’t escape. Not like I didn’t promise to Mycroft… but Sherlock didn’t trust me.

I was wondering if Sherlock believed anything I said to him about his brother and me.

The days went on and my shoulder felt better and better. At least, that was good news. Soon I could get rid of the sling and I could start to do prostrations properly. With my mala in my left I put my hands together with closed eyes. I touched my forehead, lips and heart with my hands in that position, then bowed deeply, descending to my knees. I touched the ground with my fingers next to my head and put my forehead to the ground. Then I pushed myself back up in the original position.

It’s been a while since I last did this and I was glad I had a room where no one else was. When I reached the 108th prostration, my muscles ached and I was panting. With a sigh, I got up again and checked my phone. I had a missed call from Mycroft, so I called him back.

„You tricked me”, I huffed, dropping myself on Sherlock’s bed. „You made me promise I wouldn’t hurt myself.”

„I had to”, he replied and I knew he was smiling. „Good morning though, dear.”

„It wasn’t fair. I do with my life whatever I want.”

„I believe we went through this topic a few times. You _promised_. That’s it.” He went silent for a moment. „So, you’re still coming with me for Christmas?”

I looked at my nails, thinking, visibly pouting that he ended the argument so quickly.

„I’m not sure.”

He groaned out loud.

„Don’t do this to me.”

I smiled. For some reason, I liked to tease him today.

„Of course I’ll go with you.”

„Good. I’ll pick you up tomorrow in the evening. Around six. Okay?”

I frowned.

„But tomorrow is only the 20th.”

„I know?”

My cheeks started to burn. Oh dear. Uh oh. I only prepared myself for 24th, 25th and 26th. But with this… it’d be almost… _an entire week?_

„How come you’re not working until the last day? I thought you loved your job.”

Mycroft laughed quietly.

„Sometimes even I have to take a break, don’t you think? So, what do you say?”

„I need to pick up some clothes from my apartment. And a couple of other books.”

„We can squeeze it in before the trip.”

Trip. What trip? Where??

„Alright. Thank you.” It was better not to ask, he wouldn’t tell anyway. „Then I’ll wait for you.”

„You’re welcome.” Again, I could hear he was smiling. „See you tomorrow, then. Have a nice day, dearest.”

I smiled again and flopped down on Sherlock’s pillow.

„You too, Mycroft.”

That day the smug smirk didn’t disappear from Sherlock’s face. I didn’t even dare to ask what he was on about. He knew everything already. He also knew where Mycroft would take me but I knew he wouldn’t tell if I asked. So I just decided to ignore him and asked John if he could come with me to buy something. Since I had no more time to browse for a gift online, I decided I’d go out and look for something in person. When we were about to leave, Sherlock stopped me, running down the stairs with something in his hand.

„What’s this?” I glanced down at the card he was handing me. „Sherlock? I have money.”

While I was working for Mycroft, I saved up a lot of money to be able to go to Tibet for a week. Actually, I kind of lived from that money now. I kept up my apartment and also tried to give some of it to Sherlock for the space I occupied, but he never accepted it. So, most of the time, I tried to buy food and other things needed here. And of course, a lot of money went out of the window because of my… _medical conditions._

„Well I don’t have time to get anything for you, I’m busy, so be good and buy yourself something today while you’re out. Also, treat yourself and John to lunch. If his stomach keeps growling while I’m trying to work, I’ll set something on fire.”

Before John could reply with a witty comeback, I took the card and hugged Sherlock.

„Thank you. That’s very thoughtful of you.” He didn’t freeze this time. He hugged me back, even if just slightly. „We’ll hurry back. And I won’t buy anything expensive.”

„Just have whatever you want. And you better hurry or I’ll have to answer to a certain _someone_ again.”

„I’m sorry”, I grimaced as I pulled away, taking his card in my wallet. „I wasn’t really thinking.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

„But you’re starting to, don’t you?”

With that, he walked back the stairs. I looked at John and the way he looked back at me made both of us laugh.

It was freezing cold outside. I started to feel sorry for myself. We didn’t even discuss giving presents to each other with Mycroft – but if only I bought something, it’d be better. I couldn’t help but wonder; what could I give to him? He has _everything_. Literally. The first hour we wandered around in a plaza and I couldn’t find anything which was worth it. There were so many stupid things.

„Those”, I pointed at the various little statues of all sorts of figures. „And the mugs. Towels. Keychains… **ahh.** ” I stopped for a moment to glare up at the ceiling. „I’m so done, I have no idea what to buy, I’ll live under a rock for the rest of my life!”

„Do you have anything in mind?” John asked, frowning, still looking at the small angel statues.

„I’d like something practical and nice. Something he’d use.”

„Pen?”

„Nah.”

„Scarf?”

„Nah.”

„Tie?”

„Nah.”

„Let’s just browse then. Maybe something will catch your attention.”

For another hour we wandered around but I didn’t like anything. We sat down and ate just as Sherlock asked us to. As I chewed my hamburger I wondered if it was worth all the trouble. I started to feel desperate.

„What would _you_ buy for someone like Mycroft?” I asked John then, picking up some chips.

„I have absolutely no idea.” He smiled. „Maybe a book.”

„A book?”

John shrugged and bit his hamburger.

„And what would you buy for Sherlock?” He asked and I nearly choked on my food.

„A stressball.”

John laughed so hard he brought attention to our table.

I actually did buy both of them the game called Activity. I wanted to be there to see how Sherlock would wave around in the air to describe something, but it turned out I wouldn’t be there at all. Sometimes they really had heated arguments about Cluedo and I really wanted to see them fighting over a game again. And laugh about it.

When we were finished, we walked around more and I noticed something that peaked my interest. _Tie pins._ I noticed Mycroft using them earlier, plain ones, nothing special. I asked the cashier what do they have and she brought many little silver boxes for me and I found the perfect thing.

An umbrella shaped tie pin. It looked like that certain umbrella he usually carried around.

„That’s it”, I whispered with a smile.

Little thing, silver. Very expensive and perfectly made. I fell in love with it the moment I saw it. It wasn’t easy to look for something which was elegant, useful and also reminded me of Mycroft, but this little tie pin – this was it.

„Wow”, John mumbled to me as I paid for it, „well, we better not lose this on the way home.” I laughed as I hid the little box in my handbag and we walked out the shop. „You still have to buy something for yourself as Sherlock asked.”

„Yeah… we can just go in a bookshop, I’m sure I’ll find something there.”

So, we did and I did indeed pick up a book about the – current – Dalai Lama’s life. I wanted to buy this one a few months back, so now I did. We decided we’d go back to Baker Street. It was snowing outside. I slipped and almost fell but John caught my arm. I laughed and got a better hold of his arm and we walked back home like this, talking about how we’ll spend the holidays. It seemed Sherlock and him would stay at Baker Street. I was a little sad about this because I got so used to their presence I was sure I’d miss them.

„Good, you’re back”, Sherlock glanced up from his laptop when we arrived, „give me the book you bought for yourself. You can get it after you come back, not before.”

I froze for a few moments.

„How did you know I bought a book? Alright, _don’t_ tell me!” He already was giving me _the look_ , so I quickly gave it to him, along with his card. „I didn’t spend much.”

„I know”, he said with a smile. „I kept my eyes on you.”

I cocked a brow, thinking he probably saw what I bought and where through his bank’s online page. That could be the explanation.

„I’ll have a shower”, I sighed, walking to his room to get change clothes.

Later, when I was in the bed, snuggled up under the blanket, I watched my phone's screen and bit my lip as I started to write a message for Mycroft.

**I miss you. I wish you were here with me.**

A few minutes passed before he replied.

**I wish I could be with you, too. Sleep now, dearest, so tomorrow comes faster and we can be together. - M**

I almost squealed.

**I'd like to fall asleep in your arms.**

No, I never should've sent this. He'll think I'm creepy. Why, why, why did I send this?

**Maybe we could arrange that tomorrow. - M**

I never should've sent that message because now all I could think was that maybe, just maybe, I could snuggle to him in a warm bed. I still remembered vividly the way he held me in my apartment, even if it happened ages ago. The way he held me close, guarding me while I drifted off to my dreams.

**I'll take this as a promise. Good night, Mycroft. Please, stay safe.**

I smiled as I read his last message again, swearing to myself that whatever happens after Christmas, I'll enjoy ever second I'll spend with him. I read his last reply for the day.

**Goodnight, dearest. I will, for you. - M**

I put my phone under my pillow and closed my eyes, smiling, imagining his arms around me instead of the blanket.

I could swear the other day that time refused to go in its normal pace. It slowed down.

I packed everything back in my bag after I woke up, had breakfast, brushed my teeth then sat and watched Sherlock as he tried to stay awake. After I came out of his room, he tried to make sure I wouldn't leave without him knowing, but he was too sleepy so he occasionally fell asleep sitting on the couch, only to suddenly wake up a few minutes after.

"You should sleep", I glanced at his half closed eyes. "I'm not going anywhere."

"But you packed your things", he grumbled as I gently pushed him down on the couch.

"Yes, for tonight. I'll go away with your brother for Christmas, remember?" He curled up and murmured something as I put the blanket on him. "Sleep, Sherlock. I'll stay here until Mycroft comes, promise."

He finally closed his eyes and drifted off. When I wanted to pull away from him, he grabbed my wrist and didn't let it go.

"Don't go", he mumbled and I smiled.

I sat next to him on the floor so he could still hold me there. I watched his peaceful face, his expression smooth and calm. I decided I liked this side of Sherlock. He looked younger now. I got my phone out of my pocket and snapped a picture.

“Redbeard”, he mumbled, his expression still that peaceful one.

I wondered for a moment, what could a genius like him dream of? Unsolved cases? Murders? His brain worked differently than mine, so he probably had different dreams, too. If he even had any.

Shortly after, he let my hand go and turned to the wall, curling up and sleeping still. John walked up the stairs and looked at me with a grin on his face after he noticed the sleeping Sherlock. The rest of the day passed in the pace of a snail. I walked down to Mrs Hudson to ask for wrapping paper to try and wrap the small silver box with the tie pin inside. I decided this was the best choice. I still loved it.

Mycroft, ever the punctual, was ringing up at exactly six. I already brought my bag down the stairs half an hour earlier, so when I heard the bell, I ran down and opened the door with a beaming smile.

“Good evening”, I greeted him and he smiled back at me instantly.

“Good evening. Are you ready?”

“Yes, just let me grab my coat.”

I heard Sherlock walking down the stairs. He stopped before Mycroft with crossed arms. I got my coat on and turned back to them.

“Ring me if brother dear is too boring.”

I shook my head, still smiling.

“Don’t worry, Sherlock. I’ll be fine.”

This time, it was him who moved towards me. I was rather surprised by the tight hug he gave me. I wrapped my arms around his torso and rested my chin on his shoulder. My eyes met with Mycroft’s – he seemed surprised as well. I smiled at him.

“Merry Christmas”, Sherlock grumbled. “In advance.”

“Merry Christmas to you too”, I rubbed his back a little and he pulled away.

He made sure not to look at our faces as he ran back up the stairs. I picked up my bag and we walked outside with Mycroft, closing the door behind me. I was really a little sad; John wasn’t here now and Sherlock would be completely alone. A part of me wished I could go with Mycroft – and a part of me wished I could stay with Sherlock at the same time.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be fine”, Mycroft said softly to me and I bit my lip.

“I don’t think I’d ever stop worrying about him”, I sighed.

We walked to his car. It was different than the one he took me to that restaurant. I thought it was a huge car. A silver Volvo. Why must he have so many expensive things?! We put my bag in the trunk which already had a black suitcase in it. I felt the blood suddenly left my face. I really wasn’t prepared for what was ahead of me. I slightly panicked. Mycroft closed the trunk then opened the door for me to get in. It was nice and warm inside. As I buckled up, he walked to the driver’s side. I watched him buckle up as well and our eyes met.

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly.

I smiled faintly. Not really, no. My panic started to build up. Not the bad one though, I was just too excited and happy and confused – how come it was **_me_** who was here with him? I was a very lucky girl.

“Never been better”, I reassured him.

“Good”, he smiled back and started to drive. “So, your apartment first.”

“Yes”, I cleared my throat.

“I’d like to go up with you, if that’s alright. I’m not entirely sure it’s safe there.”

I nodded.

“Okay. I’ll be quick.”

Ten minutes later we really stood at the door of my apartment. I walked in and looked around. It has been ages since I last was here.

Then — something was off. With a frown, I walked inside more and looked around with a puzzled look on my face.

“Is something wrong?” Mycroft asked, closing the door behind himself and stopping near to it with his umbrella in his right hand.

“I'm... not sure.” I replied as I made my way to my bookshelf.

My living room wasn’t big, it only had room for a black couch for two people, a black coffee table and a small telly. When I reached my bookshelf next to my couch I noticed. Every item of mine was slightly out of place. Each book was either a little back or too forward, only a little, but I still noticed. And it bugged me. I started to rearrange my books so they’d line up. Then I turned and saw the papers on my coffee table. Each of them were just a little out of place. I rearranged them too.

Then I made my way to my bedroom. Mycroft silently followed and watched what I was doing. The sheet on the bed looked like someone sat on it not too long ago when I was sure I pulled it straight. I did it again. Then – I turned to my prayer corner and my heart nearly stopped. Someone tore my prayer flags apart. My small Buddha statue was smashed along with the table it stood on, my yoga pillow was cut open and its contents was poured out.

I nearly jumped when Mycroft slipped an arm on my waist.

“I’m sorry, dear”, he said quietly and I turned to hide my face in his shoulder. I didn’t cry. When I realised I was so angry I could scream, I let out a shaky, displeased noise. Mycroft hugged me tight and rubbed my back. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright”, I replied, my voice shaking, “it’s just… it’s nothing.”

We stayed like this for a few minutes before I pulled away and walked to my wardrobe. I was so upset I didn’t even see what I was looking at. I picked out a few dresses, leaving the hangers in and got one of my other bags from there. Then, without a word, I left the bedroom. Mycroft, again, silently followed. I walked back to my bookshelf and I picked a few books up; I didn’t even look at their covers. I nearly threw the books in the bag, pulled the zip so I wouldn’t even see them and looked up at Mycroft with a stoic expression.

“I’m ready, we can leave.”

His face betrayed how sorry he felt for me. I didn’t even know how to express my anger and I tried to conceal it the best I could but he still noticed. Mycroft sighed and got a hold of my empty hand. We left.


	13. Haven

“We’ll be on road for three hours.”

So he’s taking me out of town.

"Alright."

My voice must've seemed strange because Mycroft didn't start up the car just yet, he looked at me instead.

"You have every right to be angry."

His reassurance almost broke down my iron will. I didn't want to become a raging mess. That was exactly what Adam wanted.

"Those were really just..." I sighed and shrugged, looking out of the window. "Nothing."

"He had no right to touch your things."

"But he did." I felt the bitter tears gathering in my eyes. I still stared outside. "And it's not the first time either. This was my fifth Buddha statue he broke." Even saying it out loud physically hurt my throat. I had to talk about it. I needed to let him know. I didn't know why, I couldn't stop myself. "He promised he'd never do it again. But he did. Just as he did everything else. He tore my favourite dresses apart. Destroyed three of my laptops. He yelled at me for not being on time with dinner and beat me because of it. He beat me with his belt so many times I can't even remember. I had to lie about it if someone asked about the bruises. I never believed in Hell but I was sure I was living there."

I turned my head to look at Mycroft. Now his face betrayed the shock, anger and horror he must've felt at the moment.

"I'm sorry. I never should've told you this."

He took my hand closest to him in his hands. He looked upset.

"I'm sorry you had to suffer."

I shook my head.

"It's the past... I really shouldn't whine about it."

Mycroft reached up to my face and caressed my cheek.

"I'm glad you told me." I had a feeling he'd use this knowledge to rip Adam to pieces as soon as possible. "And I assure you I'd never hurt you in any way."

"I know", I smiled and moved my head slightly to feel his touch more. "I trust you with my life."

Mycroft smiled slightly before he leaned to me and kissed me on my forehead. He stroked my cheek, pulled away and started up the car.

We didn't really talk in the next hour. I kept watching him and he often looked at me, probably to check if I was still awake.

"I always hated Christmas." Mycroft broke the silence out of sudden. "I never really looked forward to it. Too many people, too much noise."

"This sounds like I said it." I said with a smirk when he went silent.

"You were right. I really do like to spend a lot of time at work. I'm not taking days off." He frowned, as if what he said surprised even him.

"But now, you did." I pointed it out and smiled.

"Yes. And, how curious, I've been even waiting for it." He glanced at me for a moment. "You're making me question everything."

"Is that bad?" I questioned.

"We'll see", he cocked a brow and we went silent again.

What was this about, really? He wasn't sure he wanted to be with me? He started to doubt us? Right now? I noticed already he was a workaholic, but I wasn't sure he won't be bored with me. After all, we went straight out of the city, possibly to the countryside now. Maybe that was too... peaceful for him.

"You can always work from your laptop, if you want."

His lips curved up but he didn't look at me.

"I probably will. I'm sorry in advance."

"It's alright, promise."

It was so dark outside I didn't see anything at all. My phone buzzed. I got it out from my pocket with a frown.

"He knows my number again", I mumbled. "I have a few messages from a weird number."

"Oh, bugger." Mycroft grumbled but I read the messages instead.

**Where are you going?**

**You're leaving town aren't you?**

**It'll be easier to deal with Sherlock and John with Mycroft out of town, so thanks.**

"What's wrong?" Mycroft asked, but I couldn't reply. He slowed the car and we stopped, but I didn't notice. "Dear, please, talk to me."

I held out my phone for him and he read for a few moments before he reached for his own phone to call someone.

"You assured me the line was safe. Let me tell you, it's not." The way he talked got me out of my hyperventilating. Mycroft kept his eyes on my phone as he gently took it from me. "She still receives messages. Figure it out, then! I'm starting to lose my patience. If you want to keep your job, you better do something about this. Fast! How could he get this number?" He tapped on my phone a few times, then gave it back to me, looking at me for a moment. "Get to the bottom of this very soon, or else you can look for another job right before the holidays." Without saying anything else, Mycroft broke the line. He looked at me again and I didn't even blink. "I'm sorry about this."

I knew it was inappropriate but I just had to let him know how I felt about what I've just heard.

"Wow. That was... sexy."

He stared at me and I could feel my cheeks flushed a moment later. Whoops. But **_damn._**

"What?"

I laughed quietly at his puzzled face. He didn't know the way he showed how powerful he was turned some people on, me included. How did I even manage to work for him before? Maybe it's because I haven't heard him talk like this in a long time. I bit my lip. He looked at my teeth.

" _Don't_ " was all that left him with a sigh before I kissed him passionately. Mycroft moaned in my mouth and I nearly melted when his arms snaked around me. The safety belt was in the way so we pulled away soon. "You... we... I need to drive." He cleared his throat and started up the car again, avoiding eye contact now.

I was even more hot and bothered than before. A moment ago he kissed back so desperately and I was sure he wished we were at the house where he was taking me. Then a thought dawned on me.

**Oh, _shit_.**

Shit, _shit,_ **_shit!_**

I had to stare out of the window again when a high-pitched voice started to scream in my head, putting my brain at absolute panic mode.

**WHAT IF SEX HAPPENS??**

I'm not a virgin. I wasn't new to the art of lovemaking, as a matter of fact, I was pretty good at it. At least that was what my previous partners told me. But still. Getting undressed in front of Mycroft. _Mycroft seeing **me** **naked**. _ Suddenly, I started to feel more conscious of my body and I was a little displeased with the fact I gained a little weight while I was in the— _oh,_ **OH!** **Mycroft,** **_NAKED!_**

I literally was ready to faint. I kept chewing my lip and I couldn't help imagining having sex with him like — **everywhere.**

_That's embarrassing._

_Come on, pull yourself together._

I looked down at my phone, still in my hand when it buzzed. I had another text message.

**Having fun yet? SH**

I almost groaned. _Oh, Sherlock. You knew. You couldn't stop grinning all day because **you knew** , you bloody bastard._

**The journey to the unknown is ongoing.**

**What a shame. I thought brother dear would hurry. SH**

I nearly snorted.

"Hm?" Mycroft asked.

"Sherlock."

He groaned and I laughed.

**Are you aware that the probability that you and Mycroft will sleep together is extremely high? SH**

I wondered if he had an antenna hidden in my brain, telling him if I thought about something embarrassing.

**Given the fact that I'll need to sleep somewhere at some point, yes.**

I purposefully skirted around the subject, he was pretty much hinting at the fact that we'd... _nah._ Maybe Sherlock was a little too innocent to even _think_ about sex? I had no idea how wrong I was.

**Don't forget to use protection. SH**

I nearly dropped my phone to the car's floor. **_Holy fucking shit_** , Sherlock wasn't innocent at all. I should've seen it coming.

**Sherlock? I'm not a complete idiot?**

I frowned slightly when I thought about this and I immediately got sad. I looked at Mycroft who still watched the road ahead of us; really, did he want to have kids at some point? I swallowed. I wasn't sure I'd like to know the answer.

**Just making sure you're paying attention. Brother dear is obviously prepared, but you seemed a little oblivious about it. SH**

**_Obviously prepared._** He used the word _obviously_. I looked at Mycroft again. How on Earth was it obvious? Was it written on his forehead or something? Am I completely **_blind_**? And how did I look oblivious about it? I just couldn't figure it out.

"Is he giving you a hard time?" Mycroft asked and looked at me with a half smile. "As far as I'm concerned, he loves to make people feel uncomfortable."

How should I even answer to this? _Oh, nothing special, he just makes me feel like a complete idiot, as per the usual_? Or, _he says it's written all over you that you're ready to carry me to bed once we're there_? Oh damn, this was so wrong. All of it. So I stuck with the first answer.

"He's just doing what he does best. Making me feel like I'm a fool."

Mycroft chuckled quietly and I realised again I **_loved_** everything about this man. There. I finally came to terms with it. At least in my head. That's a safe place, or so I thought. It's probably written all over me for both of them.

Ah, damn. Who cares at this point. If it was written all over me and Mycroft saw and disliked it, I wouldn't be here now. But I was. So it was fine to have feelings for him and it was good for the time being.

**Thank you for telling me, Sherlock.**

I smiled. He tried to conceal it all but he still cared about Mycroft. And I loved that, too.

**Try not to disappoint, long-term. He never brought anyone to that house of his. SH**

Well. After all these messed up, raw feelings, panic started to creep in my head again. Long-term? Did he think Mycroft planned long-term?

**I'll keep that in mind, thank you again.**

He didn't send any more messages. I put my phone back in my pocket and we stayed in silence for the remainder of the trip. It wasn’t a bad sort of silence, though; I found peace in it and my racing heart could settle down as well. I sensed Mycroft calmed down just as much as I did. When he said we’d be there soon though, I, again, started to feel nervous. I knew I didn’t have to pretend something I wasn’t but it wasn’t easy not to act cool when I was totally anxious. I thought it was Sherlock’s fault. **_Protection._** I blushed again, deeply, as I looked out of the window to finally notice the house.

In the dark, only the car’s lights illuminated the dark green walls and the door. I couldn’t see much. But I figured I’d have enough time to explore. Mycroft pulled over; there was no garage, he simply just stopped in the garden and looked at me with a smile as the car stopped humming and we were left in the complete darkness.

“Are you curious?”

“I can’t even put it into words.”

“Good.” He chuckled, removing his belt. I removed it, too. “I hope you’ll like it.”

I shook my head, smiling. We got out of the car and walked back to the trunk. I got out my bags, he got his suitcase.

“Do you need help?” He asked.

It was nearly pitch black, but I still saw where he was. The snow on the ground helped me see where he stood.

“No, thanks.”

“Alright. Follow me.”

We walked, slow, towards the entrance. I felt the ice beneath my feet and I shivered a little. It was freezing cold, even colder than it was in the city. I rolled my shoulders up to cover my neck more, but didn’t really need to, because we reached the door rather quickly. He let me go forward and he came after me, closing the door. The light turned on automatically.

I narrowed my eyes, blinking like an owl. After the dark, this amount of brightness hurt my eyes. It didn’t help much the corridor’s colour was metallic golden. Mycroft stood near me, he put his suitcase down to get off his coat, all the while keeping his eyes at me. I wondered what was going on in his head. If Sherlock didn’t lie and I was the first person he ever brought here, it must be strange for him he wasn’t alone now. I put down my bags and got my scarf off. It was warm here inside. I couldn’t understand what kept my cheeks red. The cold from before, the hot now, or the looks he was giving me?

“I’ve came here yesterday to warm the house up”, he said then. “It’s been a while since I last visited and it was too cold.”

He helped me with my coat and hung it up next to his on the coat hooks next to us. I took a moment to think about what he said. He drove here and back to London yesterday. Six hours on the road. **_Whoa._**

“That’s very kind of you”, I smiled at him and the way he looked back at me sent a shiver down my spine. “It’s nice and warm now. You must’ve been exhausted.”

“Nevermind that”, he said, voice low, he got his suitcase up again. “Come, I’ll show you the rooms.”

 ** _Rooms._** Oh dear me. We walked down the corridor to a living room; the light turned on itself automatically, too. It was, in itself, as big as my entire apartment. **_Right._** After all, what did I expect. Three white couches, a coffee table, a fireplace, above it a giant telly, on the opposite wall from where we stood, a giant mirror, before it, a staircase which led who knew where. Above the coffee table, a huge chandelier. The wallpaper was nice chocolate brown, the ceiling white, under our feet, thick, coffee coloured carpets.

“There’s the kitchen”, he motioned to a door ahead of us.

I followed with a tired smile on my face. This was so much to take in. The kitchen was completely white, silver coloured stoves, probably the most expensive kind. In the middle, white table with two chairs, above it, again, a chandelier. I spied two doors, one to the left and one ahead of us. I looked at Mycroft and I realised he kept his eyes on me the entire time as I seized up the space. What could he possibly see on my face? I was pretty sure I had **SHOCK** written all over my features.

“Bedroom or bathroom first?” He asked quietly and once again, his voice made my skin crawl.

“Bathroom”, I chose, and he smiled at me, placing down his suitcase, so I put my bags down, too.

He got a hold of my now free hand and led me through the kitchen, walking straight in the bathroom. There was so much _light_. As he entwined his fingers with mine, I took in the sight of the corner tub – more than enough for two people –, next to it a shower with glass walls and doors. Everything was so damned clean. I felt like I was a little, dirty grey mouse here. In front of us of course there was a toilet and a sink. Mycroft looked down at me before he led me back to the kitchen, and from there, without a word, we walked straight for the bedroom. The words _show off_ came in my mind, because at this point I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Compared to my rather small bed, this bed was so enormous I’d be lost in it. And of course, it was a damned Victorian style bed, with bedposts and crimson red canopies. Not to even mention the two armchairs matching in colour to the bed, bookshelves, nightstands…

It was so much to take in. I felt like I was in the most expensive hotel someone ever set a foot in and I kept thinking **_what the devil am I doing here?_ Really?!** As if someone played with Sims and made the biggest house with the most expensive equipment in it. I kept staring at one of the armchairs because it looked so comfortable I was sure I could fall asleep in it. I wouldn’t even need that bed. Mycroft squeezed my hand gently and pulled me closer to him. I looked up at his face; he looked curiously at my features.

“What do you think?” He questioned and he seemed a little nervous. I bit my lip. At this, he arched a brow, his hold on my fingers a bit tighter. “Is it too much?”

“Oh, no”, I shook my head slightly with a faint smile. “It’s like my apartment. Humble and small.”

Mycroft chuckled. I clearly entertained him now and I was happy I did.

“Are you hungry?”

“Not really. I’d rather take a shower.”

“You’ll find towels in the bathroom.”

We walked out back to our luggages. I picked up the one which had the most stuff in it, with my bathroom stuff and smiled at Mycroft.

“If you need anything, just tell me. I’ll be in the living room.”

“Alright.”

After he kissed my forehead, I watched him walk to the bedroom first with his suitcase, then I went in the bathroom and locked the door behind me.

I’m dreaming. This isn’t happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interested in the rooms? I don't think I described them well, though, it's really hard for me, given my mothertongue is not English. But... I'll still show you what pictures I hunted to imagine the house.  
> [Living room](http://homeepiphany.s3.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/127-Luxury-Living-Room-Designs-title.jpg), [kitchen](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/zGedJulLir4/maxresdefault.jpg),  
> [bathroom](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/11/63/7c/11637c3904f3793e38161ddda307e473--spa-master-bathroom-spa-bathrooms.jpg),  
> [bedroom](http://www.vestiageinc.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Amazing-Victorian-Bed-Frame-Style.jpg).  
> Also, how is it? You've been quiet in the past few chapters, still liking it or it starts to get boring?


	14. Calm

Didn’t really have a dirty mouth, I disliked it, but now I kept cursing under my breath.

It wasn’t like I had ugly clothes, it was just like… everything was too simple. Or too… revealing. There was a favourite of mine, a deep red silk nightgown, but it ended at the middle of my thighs… and it had spaghetti straps. If I’m not wearing a bra under this, and I shouldn’t, because sleeping in bra is really uncomfortable… then I’d barely have any clothing on me…

“ _Shit_ ”, I hissed for the hundredth time.

Why didn’t I have two piece pyjamas? At Sherlock’s I slept in shorts and shirts because I was comfortable enough there but here I simply can’t do that. I could, of course… but that wouldn’t be appropriate. If only Mycroft wasn’t this _perfect!_ He put pressure on me without knowing all over again. I bet he had excellent, expensive pyjamas himself. With a sigh, I put on simple, white panties and I decided I’d put on my less revealing, white cotton nightgown. I looked at myself in the giant mirror above the sink. At least this went slightly below my knees, had a little sleeve, and a nice, little amount of lace just above my breasts.

_Why did that silk one make me look like a bitch and this one like a virgin?? There’s no in between?!_

Once again, I felt I wasn’t properly prepared for this.

I put my things away. I had a medium sized beauty case which had everything I needed in the shower. I put it on one of the shelves. I groaned. It was black and almost pierced one’s eye in the whiteness. I braided my hair, brushed my teeth and grabbed my shoes and the bag with my clothes in to leave. This is as good as it gets. With a sigh, I walked back to the bedroom to put my bag in one of the armchairs, then walked through the kitchen. I realised in the bathroom before that the heat came from the floor. Here, too. It was nice and warm below my toes. I knew he was in the living room and my heart jumped up in my throat when I knew he'd see me in my nightgown, but I also knew I’d have to meet him like this sooner or later. I have to leave my shoes at the corridor.

He sat, back to me, on one of the couches with his laptop. He glanced up at me with a smile when he heard I was coming. _I should’ve put on the silk._

“Were you in a hurry?” Mycroft smiled.

I wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. I spent at least twenty minutes in the bathroom.

“I wasn’t sure what to put on”, I admitted.

At this, his eyes wandered on my nightgown.

“What you have on now is perfect.” I had to look down on myself to avoid his gaze and I blushed. “Are you tired?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll have a shower too and will join you in the bedroom.”

He turned back to his laptop and I nearly fainted at his words. I stared at the shoes in my hand, realising where I wanted to put them, so I started to walk again. I smiled when I put my shoes next to his. Then I went back in the bedroom. The sheets were so clean and smelled so good. I climbed under the blanket, putting my head on the left pile of the pillows.

“ ** _Heavens_** ”, I sighed as I stretched my arms and legs.

It was so comfortable and smelled so good I wasn’t sure I’d be still awake by the time he finished his shower. Especially how the lights went out after a minute I stopped moving. I lost track of time – I probably really did fall asleep, because when I opened my eyes, he just got under the blanket himself. He felt I was moving and smiled at me.

“Sleep, dearest”, he said quietly, pressing a switch above his nightstand and the light went out.

“Can I snuggle up?” I mumbled sleepily and he hesitated for a moment.

“Yes, if you want to.”

And so I did. He froze and I didn’t mind. He was facing me, so I scooted over a little and snuggled up to his chest. I let out a content, happy noise when he wrapped an arm around me. I closed my eyes and thought, _finally. **Yes.**_ This was it. I finally was here. In his arms. Safe, warm and happy. Mycroft rubbed my back a little.

“Mycroft?” I said quietly.

“Hm?”

“Do you like that I’m here?”

I felt his lips on my forehead and I smiled.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“And do you like to be here?”

I moved my head and my nose touched his neck. His scent was making me crazy and calm at the same time.

“You’re here with me, so, yes”, I mumbled against his skin.

He held me tighter and I was glad. I was sure I’d have the best sleep in ages.

“Goodnight, dearest”, he whispered.

“Goodnight.”

I probably was asleep a second later.

I didn’t know what woke me up the next morning — maybe the light which came through the vast window? —, but it was definitely a problem that I was alone. I sat up, touching his side of the bed and it was cold. I grimaced. He probably had trouble sleeping in, usually he got up early, so maybe he started to get bored as he waited for me to wake up. I grabbed my phone to look at the time and it was past nine. I facepalmed. _Yepp._ Awkward.

I got up, made the bed and walked to the bathroom, no sign of Mycroft on the way in the kitchen. I did my morning routine, brushed my teeth thoroughly, then went back in the bedroom and changed into something other than the nightgown for the day. I wished I could stay in that, though, but knowing Mycroft, he probably was in one of his usual three-pieces. I frowned. I didn’t really check yesterday what did he wear for sleeping, but at least it was clear he wouldn’t wear a suit to bed. With a giggle, I went back in the bathroom and combed my hair, making sure no hair remained in the sink or the floor. I hated how my hair fell out and I just had to clean it up.

I walked back in the kitchen and he was there, standing at one of the counters. He didn’t look back at me right away, he was cutting himself a piece of bread, so I went and hugged him from behind.

“Good morning”, I mumbled in his back. He only had a white shirt on this time with black cotton pants, barefoot. So he **_did_** wear something other than extremely expensive attire. Good to know. “I’m sorry I overslept.”

“Good morning to you too”, Mycroft said quietly and I heard he was smiling. “It’s alright, dear. You don’t need to apologise.”

“I haven’t slept this well for ages.”

“I guess the bed suits your needs then.”

I smiled, slipping my hands off of his chest, moving to his right side, watching what he was doing.

“Again, give yourself some credit.”

He looked at me, inquisitively, probably debating if I was joking or not. As an answer, I pushed myself to my tiptoes and kissed him softly. He tasted like tea, it was wonderful. When I pulled away, his gaze on me was so gentle I was sure I could melt right there.

“You’re making me feel like no one else can”, Mycroft swallowed, “I keep asking myself if you’re even real.” This sounded like a confession and when he realised what he was saying, he looked down at his slice of bread. “Anyway. Are you hungry?”

He purposefully changed the subject and I cooperated. Maybe what he said made him feel uncomfortable. _Me?_ I was over the Moon.

“Yes.”

“Well, the fridge is full, so feel free to help yourself to whatever you’d like.”

“You’re the best”, I stood on my tiptoes once more, kissing his cheek before I moved over to the fridge.

 _Wait a moment._ I didn’t notice this earlier. It was so big I had a little trouble opening it’s door. I hid behind it from Mycroft and I let my jaw fall down. It really _was_ **full**. There were so many things I needed a few seconds to check them.

“Later we can go out to have lunch. There’s a nice restaurant just twenty minutes away.”

I was glad I could roll my eyes without him seeing. This amount of food would keep us alive for a month if accidentally apocalypse happened, _why on Earth_ would we even **_go out_**?

“Alright.” I picked up cranberry jam and walked back to him. “Could you cut me a slice of bread?”

I noticed a coffee machine and I was so glad I could figure out how it worked without asking. Mycroft sat at the table, then watched me searching for a mug, then for the sugar, then for the spoons.

“You enjoy watching me wandering around”, I noted and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Yes.”

“Meanie.”

I made myself a coffee, put three spoons of sugar in it, a splash of milk, then put the jam on my bread and I sat in front of him. This machine was capable of grinding and brewing the coffee, so it was _really_ fresh. I sipped it and closed my eyes.

“Oh now, this is _amazing_ ”, I came to the conclusion. Mycroft, again, chuckled. “Must everything be perfect here?”

“Does it bother you?”

“Bother? No. I just feel like I’m in a place I don’t even believe in.” I reached out with my feet and touched his under the table. I smiled when he cocked a brow. “You keep me so well, even though I’m a captive.”

At this, an amused look settled on his face. He finished his food and leaned back with crossed arms.

“Careful, dearest. I might lock you up in here forever.”

“Oh, now, now, people will look for me.”

“I’ll persuade them you’ve left the country.”

I slightly narrowed my eyes and finished my bread, holding my coffee in my hands as I leaned a little forward.

“I’d break out.”

At this, he laughed again and gave me a slightly darker look than before.

“You **_can’t_**.” I must’ve looked slightly surprised, because he nodded at the window behind me. “The glasses are bulletproof, thus unbreakable. The walls and the entrance door are camouflaged steel and locks down completely if I want to.” I wasn’t entirely sure if he was serious or not. But at this point I believed him. “This is _my haven_ , dearest. I never would’ve brought you here if I wasn’t sure it’s entirely safe.” He stroked my feet with his and warmth spread in my chest. Mycroft leaned forward, relying on his elbows on the table as he put his hands together before his face. “No one goes in or out without my consent. Now, that you know this, are you afraid?”

“No”, I replied quietly, almost automatically and he slightly narrowed his eyes.

“How can you trust me so blindly?”

“ _Blindly?_ ” I echoed, “you’ve been protecting me for so long I can’t even imagine not trusting you.”

“What if all of it was just a clever scheme so you’d come here with me?” He was toying with me. I saw how his lips twitched, how his eyes narrowed just slightly. I knew he was lying, so he didn’t unnerve me the slightest. “So I could have you all for myself?”

Alright. That last sentence. **_Ungh._**

“Well”, I sipped my coffee, “then you’re stuck with me. I like my kidnapper way too much.”

Mycroft looked like he was analising me again.

"That's it. You're not leaving this house ever again."

"So after the holidays, you're going back to London and leave me here?" I pursed my lips, drinking from my coffee again. "I'll be very lonely."

"I'll come every weekend."

"I'd be very sad without you and you'd be greatly missed."

Something changed in his gaze. He placed his hands on mine. He smiled.

"You know just as well as I do I wouldn't be able to leave you here."

"You need a better plan, then."

“I’m taking you with me everywhere, then.”

“That sounds better.”

I sighed. Because I knew this wouldn’t happen. He couldn’t bring me everywhere he went, not anymore. As I started to raise my mug, he let go of my hands and I drank the last of the coffee.

“I’d like to show you something”, Mycroft stood, taking my plate and his to put it in the dishwasher. Oh, _of course._ I couldn’t imagine him washing plates, really. I walked after him, giving him my mug as well. “I’m interested in your opinion.”

“Now I’m curious”, I smiled as he got a hold of my hand and started to lead me out of the kitchen.

We walked through the living room, towards the stairs. It led up to a short corridor and a door and behind it was the biggest library I’ve ever seen in my life. My jaw dropped and I didn’t care he saw. There were so many books I couldn’t even estimate the amount. To the right, huge windows let in all the light, there were black leather armchairs, tables with regular chairs. I closed my mouth. I noticed his laptop with a cup of tea on one of the tables.

So that's where he hid while I was sleeping.

“How do you like it?” He asked, however I knew he saw already.

“It’s amazing”, I admitted, squeezing his hand and snuggling up to him, wrapping my arms around his. “I never thought someone could have so many books. Why didn’t you tell me I never needed to bring my own?”

Mycroft laughed quietly.

“I didn’t want you to even suspect this.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

I looked up at him with a smile. Something between us changed. I could feel my heart beating faster under his gaze and blush rose in my cheeks.

“Mycroft?” I whispered and I moved before him, letting go of him and wrapping my arms around his neck.

He didn’t hesitate this time. His arms snaked around my waist and he held me tight, pulling me closer.

“Yes?” He asked quietly.

“Why do you share all of this with me? Sherlock said you always come here alone.”

 

That was the moment when he could sense something would go wrong.

If he told the truth, she’d be angry with him. If he lied… she’d be angrier with him later, because she’d find out he lied. His heart was exceptionally heavy. Was it some sort of medical condition? No… just _feelings._

Mycroft took a deep breath. He _could_ manipulate, it was a great tool he had and he was pretty good at it as well. But he didn’t want to do this to her. He wanted to have her here and never let her go, just as he said. But all in all, everything had to end somewhere. Even she knew things never meant to last forever. Forever didn’t exist. Everything was just temporary.

Even their shared happiness.

Or so he thought. Because the way she made him feel didn’t fade. He wanted her to speak her mind even if he knew what he wanted to know from her body language. He wanted to see that she was happy with him and he couldn’t stop making her smile again and again. Was it some sort of addiction?

“Because I want you to have everything I own”, he said then, simply, smiling faintly.

The mood between them shifted again. She was well aware of the changes in his emotional state while she also picked up the subtle hints — and it was amazing to him. How could she sense what he was feeling? And why? And even more importantly, why did she even _care_ how he felt? He honestly felt like he didn't deserve it.

“Okay”, Leda blinked, slow, swallowed, her cheeks slowly turning white again. “That sounded… _sinister._ ”

“There’s nothing sinister in it. I want to share everything with you.”

“But you always sound like you’re saying goodbye.”

That felt like a stab to his chest.

“I know.”

She snuggled up to his chest and he stared forward. There were so many ways to deal with Adam in the future and so few where Mycroft’s life wouldn’t be in mortal danger. It wasn’t like he and Sherlock didn’t try to think of every possible move of that psychopath, but in truth, he _was_ a psychopath and he was unpredictable. Because how would they know if Adam shoots him in the chest or in the head? How would they know he wouldn’t blow up his car if he started it up? How would they know he wouldn’t kill _her?_

And the worst was he was determined not to pull a trigger himself. He wouldn’t kill Adam, he wanted him alive. Mycroft _needed_ him alive. Revenge was best when served cold and Mycroft was coldness itself when it came to that.

He realised shortly after she was sobbing in his chest. _Oh no,_ he did it again. He upset her.

“No. Dear, don’t cry”, Mycroft moved slightly and put his hand under her chin to lift her head up. “Remember what did I tell you? I don’t want to leave you.”

Her cheeks were red again, big tears rolled down on them and she was still beautiful. His heart clenched. _You’re a fool,_ he thought to himself, _you do nothing but make her sad over and over again._ So he did what he thought was best. As he started to kiss her, he felt her warm tears on his face, but as soon as their tongues touched, her arms held him tighter and he knew, he felt she wanted him. It still was unbelievable, but he let it go now. Mycroft, at the moment, wanted her to calm down.

But she pulled away too soon, caressing his face and he wished she wouldn’t stop looking up at him so lovingly. Yes, he knew. He saw it in her eyes and felt it in her touch. It was obvious.

And it felt like the most beautiful dream.

“You don’t want to”, she echoed quietly. “But you might have to.”

Mycroft smiled, softly touching the tip of her nose with his own.

“Let’s stop thinking about this. Alright? For the time being.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I nearly lost half of this chapter and the next. Phew!  
> I really enjoy writing this, but can't really wait to have some angst. XD


	15. Icebreaking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope after 14 chapters, 44,000 words you'll appreciate this one. ;)

And we did. For a while.

I spent a few hours in the library reading a book about buddhism while he worked. I had no idea he really did have literature about this topic. He worked on his laptop and we decided we wouldn’t go out in the end for lunch, the fridge was enough anyway. Later I remembered I had a phone in the bedroom, muted, so I checked if I missed anything. I had three messages from Sherlock.

**The flat is empty without you. SH**

**How was the night? SH**

**I hope you remembered. SH**

I chuckled to myself as I walked back to the library, writing a reply for Sherlock on the way.

**I didn't need to remember. All we did was sleep. Any case to work on?**

I sat in the armchair near Mycroft and I simultaneously read the book and texted Sherlock when he replied.

**No case. Waiting game again. BOOOREEED. SH**

**Be careful. He wrote to me yesterday again.**

**I know, Mycroft told me. Nothing happens here. I honestly wish he’d show up. SH**

**Careful what you wish for.**

He didn’t send me more messages, so I figured he found something to pass the time with. It started to get darker around us and we soon got up to have another meal from the fridge. I cooked some eggs. The pots were so clean I was sure no one ever used them before. Being with Mycroft was peaceful. He liked silence and I appreciated it. Just when we ate I noticed the way he was looking at me differently again did I realise that even though he was quiet, his mind was racing.

He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. Then he opened it again. I laughed quietly and he smiled back at me.

“I’d like to try something… but I’m not sure if you wanted it.” He said then, hesitating, slowly saying the words as if he was afraid he’d tell me something which would scare me.

“Tell me what would you like to try, then, and I’ll decide.”

I was playful, almost cheeky, but his face was so serious I almost took it back. He frowned slightly, probably searching for the words how to put his request into a sentence. Then he shook his head. I watched him getting up, putting our plates in the dishwasher. Then he came back to me and pulled on my hand to follow him. I did. He pressed the switch so we were in almost complete darkness in the bedroom and I could only feel him. He leaned down to me and whispered in my ear.

"You are very special to me and I'd like to treat you well. Would you let me? Would you grant me this wish?"

A shiver ran down my spine, I suddenly felt hotness in my cheeks and I forgot to breathe. This was it. He wanted me, _here_ , **_now_**.

_Don't panic, don't act like a damn virgin, keep your cool._

I ran my hands up his arms to his shoulders, then back down to his chest. I could feel his heart beating hard and fast under his shirt.

"Yes", I whispered back.

He moved his head to kiss me gently as his hands once again slid on my back. He stroked down slowly, across my back to my waist and I moaned in his lips when he grabbed my bottom. I bit his lip as he continued groping me, I already felt him harden against my thigh. I moved my hand to unbutton his shirt but he stopped me with his right hand.

"Let me try what I wanted first." Mycroft asked me quietly.

"Okay", I obliged and grew even more curious what he wanted to do to me.

He kissed me again and his hands went on a journey. They slipped under my shirt and touched my bare skin to which goosebumps spread on me. I was already wet, I could feel it, as his hands helped me take off my shirt, then my bra, then he moved with me to the bed. I couldn't help myself though and my right hand wandered on his hardness, to which he groaned in my mouth.

"You're... making it difficult, dearest", he noted, to which I kissed him desperately.

"Suffer with me then, you tease", I challenged before he pushed me down on the bed.

"Worry not, I'll make you scream with pleasure soon."

He was above me but I could only sense him. And damn the way he was speaking now got me even more hot and wet between my legs. I already wanted him to be inside of me, but he'd turn me down again if I even suggested such a thing. He leaned down to kiss my neck, to bite my skin and suck on it and I wrapped my legs and arms around his body. He chuckled.

"I can't move like this."

I loosened my hold a little and he chuckled again, moving down a little, now getting a hold of and kissing my breasts. Pleased noises left me as he continued playing, for long, long minutes until I felt like I was on fire. I grew even more impatient. Mycroft probably sensed it, he straightened his back and let his hands lower on me, not wasting any time and removing both my pants and panties at once. He stayed between my legs, kneeling, his hands snaking from my knees down, down, down to my most hot, wet and hidden spot.

"You're so wet", he moaned and gently slipped two fingers on my clit. I jerked. His touch was soft and delicate and I felt the tension building down there the moment he started to draw circles on it. "How wet would you be if you came now, I wonder...?"

" ** _Mycroft_** ", I whimpered, legs shaking.

His technique was perfect, he exactly knew how to touch me. And as he teased me until now, it wasn't a surprise I came quick and hard, shaking under his touch uncontrollably, moaning his name in ecstasy.

"Can I taste you?" Mycroft breathed above me and I slid a hand on his cheek, mumbling _yes_ just before he disappeared again. He moved his arms under my legs and slid his hands on my belly, keeping me in place just before his tongue touched my entrance. "Hmm, so sweet..." I put my hand on my mouth at this point to stop the noises I made but I couldn't stop my body shaking from time to time. "Is it sensitive now?"

"Yes", I mumbled, muffled.

He let me go and pushed himself up to me to remove my hand and kiss me. I finally had the opportunity to strip him from his shirt and he let me. I felt his chest hair tickling my breasts and I giggled in his lips. Then he pressed his waist down into mine and the air got stuck in my lungs. He was **_so_** hard.

"Mycroft, I can't, please..." At my desperate pleading he pulled away once again. "I want you, now, please..."

"A moment, dearest", he whispered and I could only hear the sound of him opening a condom before he was against me a few moments later. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, please" was all I had to say and he slowly, gently, slid in my slit. He actually was thicker than I thought, his girth stretched me and I let out a groan. He stopped immediately. "No, don't stop..."

"Dearest, I don't want to hurt you." His voice betrayed he was fighting himself now.

"I'll tell you if you're hurting me." I reached for his bare shoulders and pulled him down to me. "Please, move."

Slowly, he did. He slid all the way in, stretching me apart but I was so wet he could move without a problem. I felt his lips on mine as I concentrated to relax, this time, he was the one who moaned.

"You're so... tight..."

My legs trembled a little around his waist when I felt the tension started to build up down there again when he set up a slow, steady pace.

"Harder", I begged, "please, Mycroft..."

"You're certainly making it difficult with these requests", he whispered on my lips, biting my lower one and he suddenly thrusted, deep and hard into me.

I shook beneath him and he did it again. And again. I moaned his name loud and in return he bit into my neck as he continued thrusting into me harder. My nails bit into his back as I reached my climax again, saying _yesyesyes_ and his name a thousand time before I came again, trembling under him and tightening around his manhood. He probably felt that pulsing sensation, because he came right after me, trembling from pleasure just as much as I did and moaning my name out just as loud as me.

He held me tight and buried his face in my neck, panting. I started to gently draw circles on his back, trying to catch my breath.

"You're... amazing", I managed to mumble and he started to nibble on my skin.

"No, you are."

"Fight me."

He laughed quietly and his fingers slipped on my sides, tickling me gently. I tried to jerk away with a laugh, still feeling him in me. He kissed me and pushed himself up, sliding out of me. I whined; his warmth was gone.

"I need a little time", he grumbled above me and I blushed when I thought why. "I'll be back soon."

I felt him moving away and after a few minutes, he left the room. I pushed the switch and the light blinded me immediately. I quickly got up, getting my panties back on — I'll wash them later, I'll probably soak them now —, then searched for something to wear. I accidentally stepped on his shirt and I picked it up with a grin. That'll do, I've been wanting to do this for a while. I didn't realise how small I was compared to Mycroft, so I was a little surprised when I put his shirt on. The sleeves were long and overall it covered half of my thighs but it smelled like him so I didn't want to take it off anymore. I buttoned it up but left the top two unbuttoned. As I folded our other clothes — his underwear was missing —, I realised how sore I was. As I climbed back in the bed and hid under the covers, it felt amazing to feel his scent everywhere around me. I clicked the switch and it was dark again. A few minutes later he climbed next to me.

"Are you alright?" He asked quietly. He probably thought I was asleep already, only when I snuggled to him did he notice I had something on. He couldn't hide the surprise in his voice. "Is this my shirt?"

I giggled as I wrapped my arms around him, hiding my face in his neck.

"Yes and yes."

"Why my shirt?"

"It has your scent on." It was obvious to me, but maybe it confused him a little. "I love your scent."

He cleared his throat and I laughed a little again. I felt so good now, so free and... _satisfied._ Twice, to be correct. I blushed when I thought of it.

"I'm sorry... for finishing so quickly."

I couldn't believe my ears.

"Are you serious, now? You were _fantastic_."

I didn't mention I'd probably walk funny and sit gingerly tomorrow. Maybe he'd think he hurt me.

"Yes, I'm serious." Mycroft wrapped an arm around me finally. "I didn't think you'd be so... vocal."

I blushed again when I thought of the things I told him. I had no chance to pleasure him — sadly —, but maybe my moans and words brought him closer to the edge than he anticipated. I didn't feel sorry, though. If I could turn him on with words, then it's wonderful. And I'll also use it to my advantage in the future.

"Wasn't it you who told me something like, " _I'll make you scream with pleasure_ ", though?" I teased and he chuckled. "Do you have any idea how did that make me feel?"

"I can vaguely imagine."

I moved my head and kissed him gently. Was it early to say 'I love you'? It probably was. But I drifted towards it definitely. And how would he reply, if he even did? I could imagine he'd freeze and wouldn't move for a while as he processed the information, but would he say the same? I thought not. But it still was alright. I didn't really care if he said it or not because I _felt_.

So why should I say it, even? It was obvious to both of us anyway.

"Mycroft?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you for taking care of me. I appreciate everything you do."

"My pleasure, dearest", I could hear he was smiling and he pulled me closer, kissing my forehead. "Sleep well."

"You too", I mumbled.

 

The next morning came faster than I thought and I woke up earlier than Mycroft. Which was completely unbelievable. As I blinked tiredly like an owl, I noticed he turned his back to me. I snuggled to his back and he mumbled something which made me smile. Then he, still asleep, reached back, grabbed my arm and pulled it across his chest.

I nearly laughed, but I didn't want to wake him up. I examined his skin though, which surprised me. He had _freckles_. Not just a few freckles, but thousands of tiny dots on near his neck, down his back, spread towards his shoulders and arms. Apart from that his skin was as white as marble. It was **_beautiful_**.

Sometimes, in certain light, his hair looked ginger, but I always thought it was brown and I never spied a single freckle on his face. Probably because all of them moved here, hidden away, where only a selected lucky few could see. I smiled faintly.

_Holy macaroni, I'm looking Mycroft's **naked** skin._

I entertained myself with the sight a little more. I was super lazy. Didn't even want to move today. After a while though, his hand moved from mine where he held it and stretched with a sigh. I kissed the back of his neck and he froze.

"Are you awake?" I mumbled on his skin.

"Yes." I playfully bit the side of his neck and he laughed quietly, before I moved away. He looked back at me, looking confused. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Morning breath", was all I said and he grumbled, letting me go.

I climbed off the bed and went to the bathroom. I was right. I barely could move the way I used to do. It didn't hurt though but I was prepared for the stinging pain when I went to pee. Ah well. What happens when I have sex after like... forever.

I still brushed my teeth when Mycroft joined me. He still looked tired and I smiled to myself. He was wearing those black pants again, with another white shirt. Shame. I loved the sight of those freckles. As he moved to the sink next to me, he gently pushed me to the side with his waist. I had to laugh. I continued with him and I finished before him... _just like yesterday._ I blushed again.

"So", he said then with a smile when he finished as well. He put his hands on the sides of my face and gently kissed me. "Good morning."

"Good morning", I smiled up at him. I got slightly warm from the inside out when I realised I still was in only my panties and his shirt. “Do you need to work after breakfast?”

“I think so. Is it a problem?”

“No”, I pecked his lips, my breasts pressed gently to his chest. His fingers ran down on my skin to touch his shirt. “Do you want it back?”

Mycroft looked back in my eyes and I saw his lips twitched slightly.

“I am thinking about not letting you wear anything else just this shirt, from now on.”

I blinked up at him innocently and my face and ears started to burn. Where did he get all of these? Did he do a research about flirting? I wasn’t used to this and damned the things he said lately turned me on way too much.

“I have my panties on.”

“What a shame.” He leaned down to me again and kissed me, slowly, teasingly. When he pulled away, he was smirking. “We’ll get rid of it later.”

_Oh yes._

“I’ll still change into something more decent. I always feel so underdressed next to you.”

“Underdressed?” He chuckled.

“Yes.” I turned away from him, got my beauty case off the shelf and picked out my comb to untangle my hair. He watched me, I saw it in the mirror. “You’re so sexy all the time in your suits and I’m just… _meh._ ” I shrugged then shivered when I felt his hand ran down on my back.

I saw he swallowed and breathed in slow, his hand gently grabbing my waist. Mycroft wasn’t that taken aback with my words than earlier.

“You’re beautiful, no matter what you wear.” He gently got a hold of my arm and turned me to face him. I looked up at him and he smiled before he kissed my forehead. “Let’s have breakfast.”

“Okay.”

We went back to the kitchen and he headed for the fridge, but I walked in the bedroom to at least take on my black pants and change my panties. I didn’t dare to look at the one I had on all night, I rather tucked it in my bag. I’ll have to wash my clothes at some point. I walked back to the kitchen where Mycroft already cut a few slices of bread. I watched him, wondering for a moment.

“You’re not eating much”, I mentioned and he looked at me with an arched brow. “Why?”

“I’m on a diet.”

The way he said it let me know he hated to talk about it, so I just smiled and kissed his face.

“Well… if you think you should workout more, just grab me.” At his expression, I laughed out loud. “Literally. I mean it.”

“You’re a very bad girl”, he noted.

“Just for you.” I walked to the fridge and opened it to see what to eat that morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started to write another Mycroft fanfic, because why not? Check it out here if you're interested:  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/11921868


	16. Bliss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, _delicious._  
>  And kinda painful.

We spent the morning in the library again. I found myself a novel, a comedy. Sometimes I snickered out loud, some parts were too funny. Mycroft was too absorbed in his work, so he probably didn't even notice when I left the library. I made us tea, then glanced at the time, noticing it was eleven, just when he showed up in the door.

"Here", I offered him his mug and he frowned slightly when he took it from me.

"You left me there alone." I laughed a little, sipping my own tea. He slid an arm around my waist and pulled me closer to kiss my cheek. "Should we order lunch?"

"I was thinking of cooking something."

I could literally see the light change in his eyes. His voice deepened just slightly.

“I have a better idea.”

“Do you?”

"I was thinking we could, hmm, _work out_ a little while we wait for lunch to arrive..."

"Oh, really?" I teased.

I knew what it'd do to him, so I bit my lip. His mouth crashed against mine forcefully a moment later. As we started to move together for the bedroom, both of us put our mugs on the kitchen table. It was a miracle no tea were spilled.

Shortly after I was shivering under him as he fulfilled my requests, pushing me towards pleasure with each thrust, his eyes never leaving mine, our fingers entwined, voices joined. I wanted to be his in every way possible and he did everything in his power to grant my wish. It was different now, in the light, to see his face as we both reached our salvation. Even just observing his face as he moved in me and seeing how much he enjoyed it brought me closer to it with each passing second.

Only later did I realise I had no chance this time either, to pleasure him. Slightly pouting because of that, I moved my head on his chest as he held me tight – he was lying beneath me, both of us panting, his heartbeat so hard it almost broke his ribcage. A few minutes later, when both of us calmed down a little, Mycroft groaned out loud.

“What?” I mumbled tiredly, and he started to laugh quietly. I loved when he laughed, but still, I pushed myself up on my elbow to look at his face. Bliss was written all over his features, in his eyes as he looked at me. “What?”

“We forgot to order lunch.”

At this, I started to laugh too. I kissed him, then reached for my phone on the nightstand on my side, and as I lied back on his chest, I removed the screen lock. I knew he could see my phone now, but it was alright, I had nothing to hide from him anyway. I had a new message from Sherlock.

**BOREEED. WHEN WILL YOU COME BACK? SH**

Both of us laughed again quietly. Mycroft ran his fingers gingerly up my spine, then he did the same back down as I started to write a reply for Sherlock.

**After 26 th. But you know already.**

“Here”, I mumbled, giving the phone to Mycroft. “I don’t know what’s nearby.”

“Okay.”

I watched him tapping around, writing in the name and I smiled faintly when I thought what these hands did to me sometimes. I moved my head and looked at his face, taking him in. He only glanced back at me briefly, I saw the phone’s reflection in his eyes as he browsed on the restaurant's page.

“What would you like to eat?” He asked.

“The same as you.”

He hummed and I slid closer to him with a mischievous grin on my face. I started to nibble on his earlobe and he groaned but didn’t move. I moved down to his neck, sucking on his skin gently. I didn’t want to leave hickeys, though for a brief moment I was about to mark him. The thought sent a shiver down my spine. _Marking Mycroft. He’s **mine** now._ My heart beat against my chest like a drum again, as I kept sucking his skin.

“Dearest”, he whispered and put my phone on his nightstand.

“Yes?” I whispered in his ear.

“You’ll be the death of me.”

“And you, mine.”

I continued my teasing, gently stroking him across his chest, reaching for his thighs at first. At this, he moved. His hand grabbed mine and Mycroft moved his head to look at me.

“You really, _honestly,_ will try to kill me now?”

“Not a good idea?” I bit my lip and his eyes narrowed.

“I barely can move.”

“I will move, then.”

He opened his mouth to say something but only a moan left his lips as I grabbed his length gently. It was still - or already? - half hard, his skin hot against my hand and fingers as I started to move it slowly up and down. He jerked in my hand. I smirked devilishly as I pushed myself a little down. He stared, rather surprised, cheeks blushing at an alarming speed.

"Dear, I really... I'm not sure I..."

His eyes rolled up and closed immediately as I flicked my tongue on the top of the head. He tasted like cum and condom. I didn't really like the latter — of which he got rid of a few minutes earlier —, but I still wanted to see how he'd react to what I was about to do. I was a little cruel. I knew men couldn't really come for a while after they did, but I did this once to someone else and the results were so amazing I wanted to do it to Mycroft as well. I wanted to dominate this time, to make him shake and shiver and yell in ecstasy. So I licked my lips and took his length in my mouth, all the while keeping my eyes on his face.

"Oh God no", he literally whimpered and grabbed the sheets under himself hard, but his body betrayed him as his hips thrusted a little up. I started to move my head, slow first, then faster and faster, loving how he threw his head back and then... his blue eyes found mine again, face distorted with pleasure. "Oh no, please, please... oh God I can't... hold back... please..."

I loved how he begged. He seemed so vulnerable now as he shook beneath me and I loved every second of it. I let him out of my mouth a little.

"Cum in my mouth, then. Don't be shy. You tasted me, I want to taste you too."

I lowered my head and continued, sucking harder this time. At this he threw his head back on his pillows again and he came, shouting in pleasure, shaking uncontrollably as I swallowed his seed.

I pushed myself up to my knees, triumphant and this once I didn't care I was naked. Mycroft panted and kept his eyes closed for a little before he reached out for my hand and pulled me down to him again.

"You... you..." As he searched for the perfect word I noticed both his voice and his hand shook. I wondered for a brief moment: did his brilliant mind shut down a little from the intense pleasure? It seemed so. " _Goddess..._ "

I giggled quietly before he pulled me down more and kissed me weakly. He clearly didn't care what did I swallow a few minutes before.

"Nobody... _ever..._ did..." Mycroft mumbled when he let me go, eyes half closed. "What did you do... to me..."

"Nobody did this to you yet?" I frowned and he shook his head a little, still unable to move much. "Maybe we could put this in our workout plan, too."

He laughed again, quietly, then pulled my arm to lie down next to him once more. When our lunch arrived an hour later, Mycroft wasn't awake. I kissed his face and covered him with the blanket as I got up, putting on my clothes quickly and picking up my wallet from my bag. I ran across the house and opened the door with a smile, paying for the package with my card. After I said my goodbye to the man and locked the door, I put the food on the kitchen table and picked up my mug from there to sip my cold tea.

What a wonderful holiday. And finally, it wasn't me who was asleep. I smiled and put my wallet next to the food, walked back in the bedroom and climbed back under the sheets. Mycroft was facing me now, he curled up slightly, his expression smooth and calm, he was so deeply asleep, he didn't even move when I snuggled to him.

With a smile, I wrapped an arm around him and decided this was the perfect moment, even if he didn't hear.

"I love you", I whispered and kissed his forehead before I hid my face in his neck to sleep.

When I woke up, he still was next to me and as I opened my eyes, I saw he was observing my sleeping face. I wanted to know what he was thinking about while he watched me, who knew for how long. He smiled and because of that, I smiled too. It was darker now, I wondered how much time passed.

"Let's have dinner", Mycroft mumbled, kissing my forehead before he moved away, sitting up. I immediately moved after him and buried my face in his bare back, wrapping my arms around his chest. He chuckled. "It'll be hard to get up like this."

"Yes", I breathed on his skin. I moved a hand and traced his freckles. He shivered under my touch. "I'll be in sticker mode for a while."

" _Sticker mode_ ", he grumbled with a laugh, and I let him go with a sigh. I shamelessly watched him get up and collecting his clothes. When he looked at me, I bit my lip. He smirked. "Don't you start."

"Don't start what?" I blinked up at him innocently.

"You know well what you're doing to me." He leaned down to me and kissed me gently. "However", he sighed as he pulled away, "I don't think I'd be capable of doing anything like that now."

I playfully bounced off the bed and sneaked next to him while he was busy buttoning up his shirt. I grabbed his bottom and he let out a moan, his cheeks blushing.

"Don't worry", I let him go and walked past him with a smirk, "I'll let you rest until tomorrow."

"How very generous of you", he teased as he came after me. "I'll pay back for all of these teasings very soon." I cackled as I unpacked our completely cold lunch. "Just laugh while you can, dearest."

"I'm not afraid of you", I smiled when he walked behind me, his warm hands slipping on my waist as he buried his face in my neck to kiss it.

"You don't have to be", he whispered in my ear, "but you'll find out very soon how mean I can be."

"Ohh, please."

I giggled when he tickled me playfully. We warmed up our food in the microwave then ate in silence, our feet touching each other's under the table.

"I slept through half of the day", he grumbled to himself as we put our plates in the washing machine, "and I could sleep through the rest of it."

I picked up my freshly made tea and smiled at him, even if he showed his back to me.

"Come back in the bed with me then."

"I can't", he sighed, "I have to check my e-mails."

"Alright", I shrugged, "then I'll have a bubble bath." I sighed theatrically. " _Alone._ " Mycroft rolled his eyes with a smile before he looked at me. I mimicked a sad face. “Then I'll go back to bed... with the book I've been reading... _without you..._ "

He walked back to me as I sipped my tea again. I looked up at him from under my eyelashes.

"You're a very, very bad girl."

"Not too long ago you called me a goddess."

He pressed his lips together and I smirked cheekily.

"In fact, yes. A bad, bad little goddess."

"And? What are you going to do about it?"

At this, he narrowed his eyes.

"Do you think I'll tell you what will be your punishment?"

 _Oh damn. He's doing it again._ I broke eye contact, but only for his sake. If we continued this I'd have to torture him again. I wasn't sure I'd be able to stop myself if he kept pushing my right buttons.

"Well, Mycroft... you better go and work a little before I do something you'd regret."

"Right. We'll get back to this later", he replied and as I looked back at him above my shoulder, I saw him walk to the living room.

So, I got my silk nightgown with new panties — damn, another one ruined. I really should wash my clothes. _Tomorrow,_ I decided, as I went to the bathroom. I opened the hot water then the cold and set it to my taste, browsing amoung the colorful bottles in the corner while the tub started to fill up. I chose a vanilla scented bubble bath and after I got undressed, I got in the almost hot water with a satisfied sigh.

As I leaned back and rested my head on the side of the tub, sinking so I'd be covered until my chin, a not entirely thought appeared in my mind. It has been there for a while by now, especially during these wonderful times I spent with Mycroft and it made me incredibly sad all of sudden. I frowned at the ceiling. _I don't have to feel this way,_ I thought. _Maybe Mycroft doesn't plan for long._ Though... according to Sherlock, he did... alright, even if Mycroft planned for long, maybe this problem could be dealt with somehow. I was sure he'd find a solution if I asked him to.

My biggest concern though was I had no idea how would he react to it. How would it affect him? Would he be upset? Sad? Perhaps even torn? Or he wouldn't really mind? He wouldn't care? He'd just... move on without thinking about it?

I didn't know. Especially because lately I saw a side of Mycroft nobody ever did. Not even Sherlock. And in this new situation, who knew what would be his answer?

I stayed there thinking for what seemed an eternity before I rubbed myself everywhere and got out. I shouldn't worry about it, I thought as I cleaned the tub after myself, it's far away probably anyway. Just enjoy the present. I put on my clothes and realised it was only five, I was exhausted. I walked in the bedroom to get my phone but a surprise waited for me there; Mycroft was sitting at his side with his laptop in his lap, feet up and covered. I smiled when I saw the book I read earlier today on my pillow. Mycroft looked up at me.

"Would it bother you if I worked here?" He asked and I shook my head, smiling, as I climbed under the covers. I turned my back to him with the book in my hand and snuggled to his side. He laughed quietly. "Nestled in comfortably, kitten?"

"Yes", I still smiled then opened the book, ignoring how I blushed at how he just called me. "Perfect."

So he continued to type while I read the book, giggling from time to time at the jokes and events in it, until my eyes were tired and I became too sleepy. I put the book down and closed my eyes.

_I had a horrible dream. There weren't any monsters or blood in it. It was just Mycroft, lying on his back, unnervingly still, his face white, eyes closed._

_"Mycroft? Mycroft!" I tried to wake him up, but he didn't react to me at all._

_I reached under the crisp white sheet which covered him up until his chin, and touched his arm. His skin was terribly cold._

_I realised he was **dead**._

_"I'm so sorry", I heard a familiar voice, Sherlock's, standing next to me. "I'm truly sorry, but, at least, he doesn't feel pain anymore..."_

I felt a pair of arms hugging me tight and I heard Mycroft calling my name. I was crying and stopped wriggling around as I opened my eyes.

"It's alright, it was just a dream." It was dark, I couldn't see him, but I felt he held me close to his chest. I snuggled to him and sobbed uncontrollably. "Everything's fine dearest. You are safe. Nobody can hurt you, I won't allow it."

I cried even more desperately.

“No… it was… you”, I tried to push the words through my sobbing as he reached back for the switch to turn on the light. I was blinded for a moment before I noticed his face, distorted with mixed fear and panic. “You… you were… _dead…_ ”

As I mumbled the last word, I felt the pain fill my chest and I trembled in his hold, my vision blurred and I lost contact with the world. Through my sheer panic I heard him speak, but I couldn’t understand the words he was saying.

I didn’t know how long did it last. I realised we were sitting up in the bed and I was squeezing him as tight as I could. From the way he still spoke I realised he barely could breathe. I eased my hold and tried to stop crying. Mycroft rubbed my back.

“It’s alright. It’s fine, I promise. Everything’s okay.”

His soothing voice slowly calmed me down and I finally eased into his arms. I took a few deep breaths before he pulled away a little and stroked the tears off of my face.

“I’m alive”, he whispered as he kissed my forehead, then he looked back in my eyes. “I’m alive, I’m not going anywhere. It was just a bad dream.”

“But it seemed so real”, I whined, new tears filling my eyes again and he smiled.

“Dearest, it’s irrational to cry over such a thing. **Feel _this_.** ” Mycroft got a gentle hold of my hand and put it on his chest. I could feel his heartbeat. “It’s beating, _for you._ I’m here with you and I’m not leaving you.”

I sniffed then pulled my hand away and hugged him tight, only to hide my face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long, writing the next already! :D  
> Thank you for all the comments, I really appreciate them and I'm glad you like the story! <3


	17. Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took long, I'm sorry. I got too wrapped in my other Mycroft story, In The Shadows.  
> Hope you'll like this new chapter! Don't forget to let me know! ;)

On 23rd December I was a mess.

I didn’t want Mycroft to worry so I blamed tiredness and a headache. He saw right through me of course. I urged him to go and work in the library, which, after he saw he was getting nowhere with me, he did.

I spent the morning crying.

I didn’t have breakfast and I wasn’t hungry when Mycroft came down around 11. He ordered for me too anyway before he climbed back in the bed. I curled up and snuggled to the edge of it. He didn’t care, he snuggled to me; wrapped an arm around my waist and held me tight.

“Leda”, he whispered in my ear. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

I heard he controlled his voice as much as he could. I hid my face in my pillow and let it drink my tears. Really, there was nothing.

He couldn’t do anything to make it better.

I remembered of the time when I was with Adam.

He spent a lot of time consulting people on his laptop. As a matter of fact, he remained a professional hitman after his service and sometimes, on rare occasions, he was hired by powerful men who wanted someone out of business and paid him handsomely.

We spent a lot of time at home. I taught yoga at the nearby buddhist center for a few months – a thing I haven’t done in ages. Not since there were men at the classes and Adam once showed up and saw.

“No one can see you as I see you”, he used to tell me, “you’re mine and mine alone. I’ll mark you if I have to.”

And that, he did.

In many ways.

I’m not talking about innocent hickeys on the neck here. But I always forgave him because I loved him. Or so I thought. He became more and more aggressive and I was his possession, his little plaything.

Doll, who always smiled.

Pet, who always wished to please him.

A slave to his expectations, which I always satisfied.

I didn’t know when did it turn so sour I wanted to come out of it. As I lied there in Mycroft’s arms, I thought of the cost. How Adam’s actions tainted my happiness, how his mere existence shrouded me in darkness. I turned around in the bed and hid my face in Mycroft’s chest and said nothing.

That day passed like this. I remained unresponsive, I didn’t eat, no matter how concerned he became with my physical condition; I only wanted to be in his arms. Mycroft understood later on, and provided me with what he thought I needed; he held me protectively and let me think.

I had a pleasant sleep that night. When I realised it was the 24th, I thought of the tiepin and wondered if Mycroft would like it or not. I stirred in his arms and he opened his eyes tiredly, his gaze inquisitive. I knew he wanted to see if I felt better.

I started to move away to go to the bathroom as per the usual and he let me. When I walked back in the bedroom, he was sitting on the edge of the bed but didn’t look at me. I went to him, slipping my left hand on his back. There was his pyjama. Of course it was an expensive, dark blue two piece. I didn’t even expect less of him. He slipped a hand on my waist and looked up at me, his eyes mysterious and face blank. I didn’t know what he was thinking about and the thought I upset him too much yesterday made me feel guilty.

“I’m sorry”, I said quietly. “I’m really sorry for yesterday.” I moved my right hand on his cheek and stroked his skin with my thumb. “I know it was irrational and silly… please, forgive me.”

He silently kept the eye contact, then he closed his eyes and eased into my touch. His back was still as stiff as a statue’s.

“I can’t comfort you”, he said in a dry tone, “no matter what I say. I _can’t…_ ”

He went silent again and I panicked immediately.

“No, no… no it’s not your fault, I’m sorry, it’s mine…”

Our eyes met again and he pulled me towards him, so I sat in his lap. Mycroft wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. I wondered what could go on in his head, but he didn't say anything.

 

As he held her tightly and took in the sight of her, his mind was racing.

_I keep thinking I made a mistake. I should’ve made the right decisions back then. I knew better. I should’ve kept myself away from you when I still had the chance to save whatever sanity I had. To save the part of me nobody ever knew it even existed, not even me. But it’s too late now. I gave you all I had. I gave you my heart. And you’re breaking it to pieces when you're breaking down like this._

He hugged her only to hide his face from her.

_My biggest fear though is that I can’t protect you from the harm you’re causing to yourself. Because if you're losing me... nobody will be there to take care of you. Not like I do, now._

_How could I put **this** into words?_

He wondered on and on and she held him tight. As she rubbed his back, he sighed.

_Is this what sentimental people called **love**? Is it? I am ready to die for her, I am ready to protect her from anything and I feel so powerless when I can't help her._

_I hate it._ He decided. _I **loathe** it and **despise** it. It makes me **weak**._

_But it also makes me the most powerful man who ever lived._

_And I can't stop feeling it still. She **has** me. And I wouldn't have it any other way._

I pulled away after a few minutes and slipped my hands on his face. I smiled. I need to pull him out of this state...

Before I could say anything though, I met his stern look.

"Don't do this to me again", he said seriously, " **ever.** Promise me."

I felt the blush in my cheeks. I was so embarrassed I worried him so much.

"I promise. I won't."

He seemed to ease a little at that and sighed.

"I'll brush my teeth then and we can go."

"Go? Where?" I asked curiously and he immediately flashed a grin.

"Oh you'll see soon enough. It's a Christmas surprise, not telling you yet."

He nudged me to get up and I did, still looking at him curious. It seemed to entertain him.

"Get dressed dearest. Choose something comfortable, and don't worry." He kissed my forehead and walked out.

 _Don't worry._ This in itself made me worried. With a sigh, I searched my bag and found something decent, a nice dark red blouse. I put on black jeans with it and let my hair down. When Mycroft came back after like twenty minutes, he was— **_HOLY MACARONI!_** He couldn't help but laugh at my expression and the way I gasped when I saw him.

"I told you you'll see how mean I can be", he mused as he walked over to me.

"Is this your ' _comfortable_ ' way to dress up?" I gasped again as I raised a hand to caress the expensive, sand brown waistcoat.

"Yes." I didn't see his smirk, I was too occupied with the sight. "I got used to it. And the way you look at me is too entertaining to miss an opportunity like this."

I stepped closer to him and touched him with both hands, fingers snaking up on his waistcoat. Then I gently stroked his ruby tie.

"You really are mean", I sighed then and looked up in his eyes. "Do you have any idea what I'd do to you now?"

"We'll be late if we start to _work out_ now", he murmured as he grabbed my waist and pulled me closer to him. He didn't look like he'd be against my _evil_ plans though.

"Late?"

I tried to figure out what he was planning. Brunch somewhere? That'd be good, to be honest. Meeting with Sherlock? Nah. I didn't think Mycroft would like that. I couldn't think of anything else. Mycroft hummed.

"You're really curious today."

"Because you're hinting at it!"

He narrowed his eyes and smiled again.

"I like it when you're excited." I blushed. He leaned down and the tip of his nose touched mine. I giggled playfully and bit his nose. "Hey!" He tickled me and I laughed louder. "Let’s pack. I'd advise you bring the latest book you've been reading." So we're leaving his house. I blinked up at him, my curiousity mixed with confusion and slight worry. Mycroft gently pecked my lips. "Don't worry, you'll have fun. I know you will."

He let me go and we both started to pack our things away. When we were done, we got our shoes and coats on. Outside it was glistening white, everything was covered in ankle deep snow. I was wondering if we could even open his car right now in case it froze, but it seemed he already came out earlier and started it up. We put our luggage in the trunk and quickly got in the warm car.

“Ahh, it’s so warm in here”, I eased into the seat and put my seatbelt on. “We could have a snowball fight later.”

Mycroft chuckled.

“No way.”

“Meanie.”

He started to drive out to the road and I looked at the house. His _haven_. I’ll miss it. I really liked it there.

“How far is it wherever we are going?”

“One and a half hours.”

“Wow.”

I eased back in my seat and continued watching the road ahead of us. There was nothing. Literally, _nothing_. Just bald, thin black trees and snow. _Tons_ of snow. I spied a few crows on the way but nothing more. I got out my phone after the first half hour and checked my messages.

**Where are we going today? I know you know.**

I sent the text to Sherlock. Mycroft looked at me momentarily and grinned to himself.

“What?” I asked.

“If you’re trying to get it out from Sherlock where am I taking you now, I’ll have to disappoint you.”

“Why?”

“Because I asked him not to tell you.”

“You’re always a hundred steps ahead of me.”

“Yes, I am.”

Sherlock wrote back after a few minutes.

**Nah, can’t tell. But give them my best. SH**

Give them my best. So we’re visiting people. More than one. Them… who them? The curiosity started to become an unbearable itch under my skin.

“So?” Mycroft asked.

“He wrote he can’t tell.”

I looked at Mycroft and he seemed pleased with my answer. He kept looking at the road with a gentle smile. I was about to jump out of my skin when we finally arrived at another huge house. The snow disappeared about an hour ago on the road, so there wasn’t any here either. I noticed the tie Mycroft was wearing was the same colour as the wall. He pulled over and stopped the car before he looked at me.

“So. A little briefing.” He cleared his throat and he looked like… _nervous?_ “ _One: you’ll do fine. **Two:**_ **you’ll do fine.”**

“If you keep saying that, I’ll get really nervous.”

He laughed quietly and I laughed along, but my hands went cold from the fear that gripped my stomach. I started to sense what this place was and who lived there. He got a hold of my fingers.

“I just want to tell you that you’re… whatever you do is alright. Just be yourself, okay?”

“Okay”, I mumbled and he kissed my forehead.

“Alright. Let’s get out of here. We can’t stay here forever.”

He got out and I kind of wanted to stay in the car. With a sigh I got out too just when he walked over to me. We walked to get our things out of the trunk just when the house’s front door opened and a white haired elderly woman appeared there.

“Just in time Mike, I thought I’d need to call you where you were…”

 _Mike?_ I looked at Mycroft who rolled his eyes as he closed the trunk. I tried not to panic.

“As always, would you please call me _Mycroft_ , if you decided you’d name me like that?” He replied and looked at me. I was chewing my lower lip and was about to start panting, so Mycroft got a hold of my left arm. “Dearest, it’ll be alright. Remember what did I tell you? You’ll do fine.”

I nodded nervously and swallowed, thinking that he really should’ve told me he brought me to his parents. _Heavens, he was about to introduce me to his parents._

**Wait a blessed second here.**

_Mycroft. Wanted to. Introduce. **ME.** To his parents._

“Oh? You forgot to mention you’d bring someone.” Mrs Holmes said, her voice betraying she really was surprised now. I was literally shaking in my shoes. She had no idea who I was and I had no idea how will I survive that. "Come on in you two before you catch a cold."

"A moment, Mum", Mycroft pulled me closer to him and lifted my head up with his finger under my chin. "I can talk if you want. Would you like that?" I whimpered yes. "You don't have to be afraid at all, dearest. I'm here with you and you have nothing to be afraid of." My panic slowly faded away. I eased a little and he kissed my forehead. "Let's go inside."

I let him lead me and I was sure I looked as white as the snow. We walked in the warm house and I quickly closed the door behind us. When I turned and looked up, my eyes met with Mrs Holmes's literally shining eyes. Mycroft introduced me and his mother insisted I call her Mum too. I couldn't decide what was funnier - and worse -, her enthusiasm or Mycroft's visible agony. But he was right. I had nothing to be afraid of.

"He rarely visits us", she complained and shot a displeased look at Mycroft who just got his coat off.

"I am busy", he said simply and after I got my own coat off, he hung it up for me.

"Would your hand fall off if you picked up the phone at least?"

"I'm here now, if you didn't notice. And would you stop treating me like a child?"

I smiled. Because I knew that to Mrs Holmes, Mycroft always would be her child.

"I prepared your room, but..." She looked at me confused and my face from chalk white turned to tomato red.

"It's fine", Mycroft said and picked up my bags in one hand. He got a hold of my left hand. "I'll show it to her. She's a little bit tired."

I swallowed nervously and avoided Mrs Holmes's gaze carefully. Mycroft pulled me through the living room - Christmas decorations everywhere! -, then went up on a small staircase. There was a corridor with three doors on the right side and two others on the left. Mycroft led me to the last door on the right and opened it for me.

After his house's furniture, this looked more like a room for an ordinary person. It had a bed, wardrobe, desk and chair. I smiled at Mycroft as he put my bags down.

"They changed a lot since I moved out, but it's alright, isn't it?"

"Everywhere is perfect if you're around."

He looked deep in my eyes. Then his lips crashed against mine. I brought my hands up and ran my fingers in his hair at the back of his head as I moaned in his lips. He closed the door and nudged me towards his bed.

"My... Mycroft", I mumbled but ended up there under him eventually. I pushed him away and giggled. "We can't."

"Why not? It's not like they'd come up and listen..."

I blushed.

"I wouldn't be able to stay quiet."

He thought for a moment.

"So no _work out_ while we're here?"

I pursed my lips playfully.

"Nope."

"Well, then." He narrowed his eyes at me. "We'll see."

"What's on your mind?"

"You'll know."

He kissed me again, grinding his hips down against mine and I could feel he...

" _Gasp!_ " I hissed with another giggle. "That's mean!"

He pulled away with a smirk which told me he'll be even more evil with me very soon.

"Alright, do you want to go down and talk to them?"

We sat up and I got a hold of his hands. I started to play with his fingers.

"I don't know, what if they don't like me?"

"Well, she does", he pointed it out. "The way she looked at you... she'll definitely ask about our future plans."

"Future plans?" I lifted my eyebrows and Mycroft's face looked genuinely embarrassed.

" _Marriage_ ", he grumbled. I felt I blushed again. He looked down on our hands. " ** _Children._** "

_No._

**_No, no, no._ **

The panic rose in me again, the pain in my chest returned. _Child..._ **_ren..._** more than one. I looked away and tried to control my panic. _It's alright._ It's not like Mycroft forced marriage on me, right? It's not like he wanted to 'make' a child, right? His mother is just curious.

_She's just curious..._

"Are you alright?" He asked and I felt like his voice called me from a thousand miles away.

"Yes", I replied quietly and moved my head to bury my face in his shoulder.

He shouldn't deduce anything. Not about this. It was late to try and rehearsal such situations before the mirror, but I still could let him handle it his way.

But what would he say?

"And do you want?"

Mycroft snaked an arm around me and held me close as he whispered in my ear.

"Want what?"

"Children..."

Even to me my voice sounded off. Mycroft stayed silent for a longer time than I expected.

"From you..." He mumbled in my ear. "Yes."

I felt like I was a porcelain doll which got smashed against the wall and was broken to a thousand pieces.

And I _had to_ pretend I was alright.


	18. Mycroft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made myself cry with this chapter.  
>  **TWICE.**  
>  I've warned you.

_Why must this be so **hard?**_

As we had no breakfast at all I should've been hungry but I found myself being nauseous instead. I walked down the stairs again with Mycroft and smiled faintly at the Christmas tree; I couldn't imagine how much work they put into everything here. This house felt more like a real home to me. The little details were which made me realise it. The small angel statues on the windowsill, the candles lit around the house, and the smell - it was the most delicious smell ever. So when Mycroft walked up with his suitcase, I ventured to the kitchen where his parents were. I smiled shyly at them and introduced myself to Mr Holmes before he went out and I offered my help to Mrs Holmes. Of course, she said she needed no help, but I insisted, so five minutes later I helped her with the dishes. Preparing the food always made dirty dishes even before eating.

"Thank you", Mrs Holmes smiled at me, grateful, and I realised her hair was dyed blonde, probably to hide the gray locks.

"It's the least I can do", I decided I'd pay attention to the plates instead, maybe then I wouldn't feel so awkward.

"So, since he never tells me anything, when did you meet Mike?"

There it was again. _Mike._ It felt so alien. Almost inappropriate. But maybe because I felt like he hated it and I instantly disliked this nickname. I started to talk and I realised it was easier to open up if I paid attention to something else. After a few nicer questions came the first one which made me very, very uneasy. But it was Mycroft who got the question when he joined us eventually in the kitchen.

"Isn't she _a bit **too** young_ for you?"

I felt like Mrs Holmes's gentle voice pushed down a cactus on my throat. True, I was a bit young for him, alright. He already probably went to school when I was born. But really, was this really a question that needed to be asked, right here, right _now?_ While I was standing right next to her?

I didn't look at Mycroft but from the way he replied I knew the question annoyed him slightly.

"Age is just a number."

I couldn't hold back my smile. So he didn't care. But Mrs Holmes pushed the subject.

"Well of course it is, but still, I'm sure you know why a young woman would choose someone... _like you._ "

I nearly dropped the plate I was washing. What was she on to? I blinked rapidly and tried to conceal how badly it affected me. So, Mycroft was wrong. His Mum didn't like me ** _at all._**

"Could you leave this to _us?_ We're adults and we can decide ourselves."

"Really, how old are you, dear?"

I felt like I'd choke from the way she talked to me. I tried my best to reply without my voice shaking.

"I'm 28."

"28! So young."

I finally looked at her. She was smiling but I didn't return it. _It's Christmas_ , I reminded myself, _don't lash out, **it's** **Christmas**._ So I finished the washing up and decided I'd sit next to Mycroft. He got a hold of my hand and I put my head on his shoulder.

"And what do you do for a living?" Came the next inquisitive question as she stirred the soup with her back to us and I glanced up at Mycroft.

"She's teaching yoga." He replied as he looked back at me and I tried my best not to show how surprised I was. _Oh really, **I did?** _ Then I remembered it'd probably make it worse for us if we told her I was his assistant. I was slightly amazed he remembered. I mentioned I had a paper about it only once. "Very good at it, too."

"A yoga teacher. Well... not really a professional job, is it?" She hummed and I started to feel angry. Would she continue bullying me? Because that was how I started to see her. A bully. "Not like your work is more important, _Mike_."

My face darkened even more as I raised my head and looked at her again. She probably didn't know the truth, but who'd say something like this, even if it was the truth? Mycroft squeezed my hand and I looked at him. He gave me an apologetic, half smile.

"So do you do yoga, _Mike?_ That's how you two met?" She continued chopping something, still showed her back to us. "Not like yoga was _real_ work out..."

" ** _Mycroft_** doesn't need to work out."

I nearly hid under the table. I just couldn't stop that sentence slip out. It was just a very strong thought of mine I wanted to keep to myself... _whoops._ Mrs Holmes looked back at me for a moment.

" _Mike_ always had problems with his weight."

I clenched my jaw. Mycroft squeezed my hand again – he wanted me to stay calm – and I squeezed back. _No, I'm **not** tolerating this. He might try to stop me, but I'll give his mother a piece of my mind._

"First of all, yoga can be very intensive, second, **_Mycroft_** has _no_ problems with his weight."

"Leda..."

Mycroft mumbled quietly but I didn't listen to him. She may have thought saying such things was alright, but the way I saw it, it made Mycroft _suffer_. I felt how he hated he had to be on a diet that once when he mentioned it and now I saw where it came from. Maybe he was a little bit chubby when he was younger. But he clearly grew out of it... and he was still bullied because of it.

"Do you think so?" Mrs Holmes asked absentmindedly, not looking at us. " ** _Love is blind_** , isn't it?" She smiled back at me faintly. "If we can call it _love_."

I knew, I _felt_ what she was hinting at. And I became so angry I barely could contain it. I suddenly let go of Mycroft's hand and stood, walking out of the kitchen right away, saying I just remembered to write a text to a friend. Mycroft followed me. I walked in the room which was now ours and stomped around angrily, my hands in fists at my side. He sighed and closed the door behind himself; he didn't look affected at all.

I stopped and stared at him for a long time, without moving or saying anything. I observed his calm posture, his hands in his pants’ pockets, his expression almost empty.

 ** _His mask._** It started to form here, amoung these walls. This was the place where he learned how to conceal feelings, how to hide it if he was hurt. How not to fight back when he was bullied. How to pretend he never needed anyone.

I wondered briefly how much he had to suffer. I knew he was highly intelligent, which already probably made it hard for him to find anyone to even talk to. And then, here was his own mother who treated him like this, probably even when he was young and his soul must’ve been **_so_** _fragile._

My heart broke the moment I remembered what he told me once.

_I can't believe the things you say sometimes. You mean it. Everything. That you really are happy to see me and that you want to be with me. And I don't understand why._

I finally understood why he thought he wouldn't find someone who'd genuinely want to be with him. He didn't think of himself being desirable or wanted by anyone. And she also made hints at she thought I probably was with him for his money or power or **_whatever_**. I had a strange feeling that she probably didn't want Mycroft to be happy. What kind of a mother would want her child to be _isolated?_ What kind of a mother would try and tear her son's relationship apart?

From anger my mood shifted to intense sadness. And I knew he picked up on the changes. I wondered for a moment what he saw on my face. What could he think now?

I swallowed the rest of my anger and stepped to him, slipping my hands up on his chest. I looked in his eyes as tears filled mine. Mycroft gently put his hands on my hips.

"It's alright, dearest", he whispered to me and I shook my head.

"It's not", I replied quietly and I pushed myself to my tiptoes to kiss him. I slipped my hands on his face after, gazed in his eyes deeply and I tried to figure out what he was thinking about. But he remained a mystery. His expression still was empty. "Mycroft, I..."

"Dearest, please", he said quietly, "don't take whatever she says to the heart."

I swallowed. She was his mother and of course he protected her. But how far she could go? How far Mycroft would let her go? How much of this I'd need to tolerate? It wasn't even what she said about _me_ that upset me. And from how he reacted, I knew he thought I was upset because I was the target.

How _wrong_ he was.

"But you don't deserve the things she says", I whimpered with a frown as tears started to fill my eyes again. There was a hint of confusion in his curious orbs. "You deserve to be happy about yourself, because you're perfect the way you are. You deserve to be appreciated, because you do a lot for everyone in this country, including her and everyone else in your family."

He blinked, twice, rapidly, then he froze. I might've broke him and I wasn't even done yet. I stroked his face with my thumbs.

"And you deserve to be _loved_." I pecked his lips. "And I'll do just that. **_I..._** " My heart jumped up in my throat. _There, say it, **say it!** He **knows** it already, but you **have to** say it now, so he'll also **believe** it!_ I looked up in his eyes again. "I love you. You are everything to me." I smiled and the tears rolled down on my face. "And I won't let you get hurt in _any_ way by _anyone_ , **ever** again."

The way he kissed me a moment later turned my legs to jelly. He didn't say those three words himself, but it certainly was in this kiss. I heard him lock the door behind himself as he nudged me towards the bed. I knew I wouldn't talk him out of this now and I didn't even bother to try. I didn't care at this point if his parents heard anything or not. What I said, I truly meant. He deserved to be loved and I was about to show it to him again and again, until he finally believed me.

It wasn't long before he stripped me all of my clothes and started to tease me with his astonishingly skilled fingers. I whimpered and brought a pillow on my face but he removed it from my hands.

"No, I want to hear your voice..."

And that, he did, not too later. I tried my best not to make it loud, but my muffled noises only fueled the fires that burned in his eyes. Once it subsided, he gently pushed two fingers into me and I shook under him as he started to bend them. Up-down, up-down, _swiftly,_ **hard,** Mycroft hit a spot I never even knew it existed, and I lost myself in the tension that built itself up, _up, **up**_ until I felt like I'd **explode. And I did.**

I lost contact with the world and I had no idea for how long did it last but it was the most amazing thing that ever happened to me. Every inch of my body trembled violently as I came, but not only down there, it felt like everything I was came **together** , all at **_once_**. For what noises I made, didn't even matter anymore. I looked up at him.

"M... Myc... croft..." I blinked, surprised, when I looked down at him. It seemed a little _accident_ happened. I blushed immediately. So this was... the legendary G-spot... and squirting... in which his pants were now covered in. He looked like he had difficulties. "I'm... sorry... I ruined your clothes."

"They were ruined **_before_** that", he whispered in a low tone. I forgot what it did to him and I bit my lip. His eyes immediately darkened. His fingers moved slightly, still inside me, to which I slightly jerked. "So let's _experiment_ some more with this..."

"Oh no", I whimpered as he started to move his fingers again, the same way as before and I ascended to the heavens of pleasure in mere minutes once more. As I trembled beneath him he observed and waited until it was over completely just to start it again. " ** _MycroftpleaseIcan't!_** Ahh!!"

"It's Christmas, isn't it, love?" He leaned down and sucked on my neck as I came again. I managed to register how he called me now, but only barely. When I regained my consciousness, I realised the sheets under us and the clothes on him were _soaked_. "Consider this an early present."

As he moved his fingers in me a little, I got a hold of his arms. He chuckled when I whimpered I couldn't take anymore. His eyes found mine as he slowly removed his hand.

I let my arms fall wherever they wanted to and I decided I wouldn't move ever again. Mycroft seemed he thought otherwise. He conquered my lips with his and didn't let them go for a long, long time.

Later, I dressed back up – my legs and arms still trembling –, he changed his clothes and we changed the sheets. I didn't dare to go out of the room yet. The pleased smile of Mycroft when he came back with the clean sheets though, was totally worth it all. Saying those three words and letting him ruin me because of it.

"I didn't think this day would turn out like this", I mumbled as I snuggled up to him.

Of course, Mycroft was checking his e-mails on his phone, but it seemed today everything stopped in the city. He put his phone down, moved his chin on the top of my head, pulled me closer and hummed.

"You really shouldn't get upset about it, though", he said quietly. "She's like this."

"With everyone?"

There was a moment of silence as he breathed in deeply.

"Well, no." I turned my head and pushed myself up to look at him. "It's _fine_ ", he said, tired, "it doesn't matter who says what. We're together and we're happy. Nothing can change that."

I pecked his lips. This way he told me he was happy with me and it made me a smiling idiot.

"I think lunch will be ready soon." He mumbled then, and I blushed when my stomach started to grumble. Mycroft chuckled quietly as he rubbed my back. “And I believe it’s quite obvious why haven’t we showed up yet.”

I snuggled back to him and nudged his neck with the tip of my nose, breathed in his scent and I wrapped an arm around him tight.

“I really meant what I said”, I mumbled quietly. “I really do love you. And it’s okay if you don’t say it yourself. I’m happy with the thought that I can say it to you.”

I felt he swallowed and breathed in slow. We stayed quiet for a long time.

 

So I had to wash my ruined panties in secret, with hand, in the bathroom sink.

It was so awkward. Especially when I couldn’t decide where should I put them to get dry. I decided I’d put it in our room on the radiator, but I so regretted it, because every time I catched Mycroft accidentally looking there, he smirked, smug.

He knew why they were there. It was so mean.

His mother, strangely, started to be less annoying, but still hinted at the fact I was a bit too young and I should have a different job. Not like either of us said anything to it. His father seemed less inquisitive, he was fine with me, though when I sat in the living room with Mycroft, snuggled up and reading my book, I spied a rather unfriendly look he shot me.

Ah well. They might just think I’m with him because of his _whatever_ and I wouldn’t be able to convince them otherwise with words, so I did what Mycroft suggested I should do. _I didn’t care._

On 25th morning I woke up with my face in his back and my arm across his waist again. When I wanted to remove my arm, he grabbed it and held it there.

“Listen”, he mumbled sleepily. I did. Some old Christmas song was playing somewhere in the house. I smiled in his back and a moment later he turned around, his eyes much more awake than I thought they’d be. “Merry Christmas”, he said quietly and stroked a lock of hair out of my eyes.

“Merry Christmas”, I whispered back and pecked his lips. “What’s the time?”

“Just past 9. It’s been a while I last slept so late.”

I laughed quietly.

“I’m a _bad_ influence. Your parents are right. You shouldn’t be with me.”

“Nonsense”, he grumbled and I laughed again. Then he sat up and reached for something which was on his nightstand. As he turned back to me, he held a small box. I sat up, curiously. “So, since it’s Christmas morning… I guess it’s time for _this_.”

“Oh Mycroft, no”, I whined quietly and he looked slightly surprised. “Me first!”

“I insist.”

“No! I’ll feel stupid if what I get is… I don’t know… much better than mine, so…”

I hopped off the bed and fished out my little box. I quickly climbed back on the bed.

“So, what about an exchange?” He cocked a brow.

“Alright”, I agreed.

Of course, now, both of us was waiting for the other to open their gift. We both giggled like teenagers before we started to unwrap and open our boxes. I rather watched his face and he watched mine when we were done and we laughed together again. Then… I looked down – and it was a key with a beautiful keychain, which was an obsidian Buddha head.

“Oh, this is perfect”, said Mycroft quietly as he picked up the tie pin. I looked at his face and he looked genuinely pleased with it. _Good…_ that was all I needed. “I’ll wear this every day.”

“Nah, you don’t have to”, I laughed a little as I picked up the key and looked at the keychain. I wondered what this key opened. “What can I unlock with this?”

Mycroft blinked a few times and the rather innocent face he put on made me question my _entire being._

“Well”, he cleared his throat. “There’s a small yoga center near Baker Street.” I felt like I started to lose focus. _Oh no, he didn’t. He really couldn’t._ “And, from now on, it’s yours.”

I didn’t realise my jaw hung open, only when he closed it with his index finger, laughing at my expression. Then he stopped rather abruptly when I launched myself at him to shower him with kisses and a thousand ‘thank you’s.


	19. Returning

That day I didn’t want to move out of the bed. Mycroft showed me pictures of the yoga center. There was a small corridor where people could get their shoes off and a door led to a big room which had deep red carpet on. Opposite of the door was a shrine with a big Buddha statue. I saw lots of yoga pillows arranged in nice little towers at the left side of the room.

I never had someone do something so big for me in my life before and I really was touched. When I started sniffing, Mycroft tried to pull away to look at me, but I didn’t move my head from his chest.

„Why are you crying?” He asked quietly and I wrapped an arm around him tightly.

„I’m happy…”

„People usually don’t cry when they’re happy.”

I laughed a little and pushed myself up, beaming a smile at him while I let my tears fall.

„Nobody, ever, did something so amazing for me.” He raised a hand to wipe my tears away. I moved my head a little towards his touch, just to feel his warmth more. „You make me feel like I’m something special.”

„You _are_ special”, he said quietly and I sobbed and laughed at the same time. I leaned down and kissed him. When I pulled away, he looked at me slightly differently than before. „You know… before you, I never thought I’d say this, but… I don’t want to be by myself anymore.” I blinked away my happy tears and got a hold of his hand. He started to play with my fingers and looked at our hands. „It’d… tear me in two… if I saw you with someone else.”

I wondered briefly what made him say this. It seemed he still couldn’t come to terms with what I told him before. He didn’t believe it, not yet, but he wanted to let me know he felt similar about me and I appreciated it. I lifted his hand up and kissed his skin.

„I’m not leaving you”, I said quietly, „I can’t, and I won’t.”

He nodded and pulled me back to him. I rested my head on his shoulder and smiled faintly at the umbrella tie pin he really was wearing.

_I had no idea that soon, I’ll have to break my promise._

That day, we only wandered down to eat, but didn’t really react to any mockery his mother inflicted upon us. I let Mycroft deal with his mother; he didn’t seem affected, but even if he was, I made it up to him later when we went back in our room. It was wonderful.

Then, at lunch, she popped the question I was afraid of.

„And what do you think about babies?”

I carefully swallowed my water as I looked up at her and wondered – would this woman actually want to have a grandchild? How would that work between us? I couldn’t imagine her coming to us every weekend to see her granddaughter or grandson. As a matter of fact, the thought made me so anxious I wondered if I could swallow another bite that day. My throat tightened. I tried my best to conceal it.

_It’s just an innocent question. Don’t show how upset you are because of it._

„I like them”, I answered the question then, with a half smile. „I’m also good with them, I think.”

„And do you want one yourself?”

I didn’t dare to look at Mycroft who glanced at me. To my utter surprise, I didn’t blush at all. And, fortunately, never went pale either.

„Some day, I think.”

I wondered if my answer satisfied her curiosity. I wanted this topic to be done, but she was so _pushy_.

„You’re almost 30, you shouldn’t wait for so long”, she warned me and that was the moment Mycroft wanted to interrupt, but as soon as he opened his mouth, his mother hushed him. „Really, it’s risky. She’d also be very old if she waited for so long…”

„I guess they can decide when they want a kid themselves”, Mr Holmes interrupted and I was so happy he did.

„Yes of course, but now that I see how good they’re looking together, I don’t want Mycroft to run out of time either.”

At this, though, I did go pale. _Mycroft, running out of time._ I swallowed nervously and picked up my glass again. I didn’t even notice at the time she said we looked good together. Again, Mr Holmes came to the rescue and quickly navigated the talk back to Mycroft’s work.

I was nervous for the remainder of the day.

The next day he said maybe we should pack our things and go back to London since he had to go to work the next day. I knew that secretly, he missed his work, so I didn’t complain. We packed quickly – with a red face, I collected my panties from the radiator and didn’t miss the amused look he shot me, sadly –, and put our luggage in his car’s trunk. It was very cold outside, so he decided he’d warm up the car and we’d leave after breakfast.

Mrs Holmes, by then, started to talk about Sherlock. I realised that, ~~even though a mother shouldn’t in my opinion,~~ she had her favourite son and it wasn’t Mycroft. _Ah well._ I tried my best not to get upset about it. I continued to smile at her while she told tales about Sherlock when he was young and I realised she wasn’t that bad ~~(if the topic wasn’t Mycroft)~~. And, in the end, when we said our goodbyes, she told me she’d like me to pop in in the future as well.

_Hmm. I’ll think about it. Ten times before I make a decision._

Just when we were on the road for twenty minutes already, did I turn on my phone. I forgot about it completely and I felt a little bad. I smiled when I saw I had new messages from Sherlock.

**THE ACTIVITY GAME IS ON. IT’S GOOD. JOHN HATES YOU. SH**

**Merry Christmas once more. SH**

„Sherlock wrote, _’the Activity game is on, it’s good, John hates you’_ ”, I shared the text with Mycroft and then we laughed together. „So, they got it.”

„Tell me I won’t have to play with that.”

„If you don’t want to, I won’t force you. We have _our little_ _games_ anyway.”

He glanced at my face but I kept staring at my phone with a smirk.

„I’m quite sure we do not want to have an accident, so please, don’t say things like this”, he grumbled and I laughed again.

I wrote back to Sherlock, wishing him merry Christmas again and I also wrote to him we were on our way back to London. Then I frowned slightly.

„So… I’m not allowed back in my home, correct?” I asked him and looked at his face.

„Correct.”

„Where will I stay?”

He hummed.

„I’d be glad if you spent some more time at 221B Baker Street.”

„Alright”, I nodded and he glanced at me for a moment again with a frown.

„No objections?”

„No objections”, I smiled.

I reached for his hand closest to me and I pulled it between the gear level and the handbrake. I rubbed his knuckles and stayed like this. As Mycroft seemed alright with it, we didn’t move at all. I tilted my head back against the seat and watched the road. Sometimes I’d stroke his hand, sometimes he stroked mine.

I loved to be with him like this. It was so peaceful and I felt so safe.

„So I’d like to bring you there as soon as we arrive in the city”, he said quietly and I looked at him.

„Okay. There’s only one bad thing about it all.”

„A bad thing?”

„Yes.”

„And what is it?”

„You won’t be there with me.”

My throat tightened at the thought. **_Oh no._** _I was right._ After all of these days, after all this time we spent together, he wouldn’t be with me. Mycroft and I would be seperated from each other and who knew for how long. He squeezed my hand and I looked at the road again.

„If you want, we can meet every day”, he said gently.

„I want, yes”, I replied immediately and he chuckled quietly.

„Maybe have dinner together after I’m finished with my work?”

„That’d be perfect.”

I had no idea how we’d _work out_ , but I decided I wouldn’t ask that now.

„I’ll need to write quitting papers to you, then?” I sighed. „I have a yoga center now. I really should use it.”

„Yes, I think that’d be quite alright. You said you liked doing it back then.”

„How can you remember such things?” I blinked surprised at the road ahead. „I told you this ages ago.”

„I remember everything you told me.” _Everything?_ How can someone remember **everything?** „I also read you well. I **_know_** you. And honestly, I use all of it to my advantage.”

„That’s quite unfair. I can’t read you.”

„You can. And you do. But you’re not aware of it.”

I turned my head to look at him again.

„I must look so oblivious to you”, I frowned.

„Don’t worry about it, love.” _There,_ he called me love again. My heart fluttered in my chest. „You’re perfect the way you are.”

I blushed, because I knew I told him the same words not too long ago. I squeezed his hand.

„Then I’ll continue to be oblivious.”

„And I’ll continue to remember everything.”

We stayed quiet for a long time again. I really just enjoyed the silence with him. It was just the two of us now again, and I could feel it made him calm as well. I tried to pick up on his mood while I was stroking his hand, I felt his pulse beneath his skin. I followed the path of his veins and sighed deeply, paying attention what I felt while I did it.

I was wondering if he really understood my feelings towards him. I cursed myself briefly for promising him I wouldn’t hurt myself if anything happened to him, but an idea started to form in my head just in case that happened. It wouldn’t be easy at all, but I was determined to leave this country behind if it happened. Any time. I’m not staying around if he’s… if he didn’t exist anymore.

„Love?” He asked quietly and I realised I was panting. „Is everything alright?”

„Yes… yes, it’s fine.” I hurried to reassure him, when nothing was alright.

How could he even imagine I’d keep myself safe and sane if anything happened to him? I looked at Mycroft’s face and wondered silently as I rubbed his skin again.

„Mycroft?” I mumbled and he hummed. I smiled. „Nothing.”

He looked at me and I saw he understood. I wouldn’t be able to use the best words to tell him what I was thinking anyway.

When we arrived at Baker Street, the sadness became overwhelming. We got my bags out of the trunk and he led me inside. Mrs Hudson smiled at us saying my Christmas present ended up in a heated argument and I giggled about it when Mycroft pulled on my hand to look at him. I did. He looked so serious now, again.

„Please, be careful”, he said, voice serious. „Promise me.”

„I promise”, I replied quietly when he stroked a lock of hair out of my face and kissed my forehead. I closed my eyes before I looked back up at him. „And you promise me that, too. I wouldn’t be able to bear the thought if anything happened to you.”

Mycroft smiled and pulled me in a tight hug. I buried my face in his shoulder and squeezed him to myself.

„I promise”, he whispered as he rubbed my back. „See you later, then.”

He pulled away and kissed my forehead once more before he opened the door again. I slowly let him go and I felt like he put a great part of me with him.

„See you soon.”

Mycroft smiled faintly and left, closing the door behind him. I got my coat off then walked upstairs with my bags. Sherlock sat at his laptop alone.

„Did he leave?” He asked and I sighed sadly to myself. He didn’t even wait for a reply. „Put the bags in my bedroom, you’ll stay there, then come back. I want to show you something.” I decided I’d do as he asked. When I came back, he turned to me with a serious expression. I thought there was something wrong. „What four letter word can be written forward, backward or upside down, and can still be read from left to right?”

I blinked for a few seconds. What? Where did this come from?

„Ummm…”

„Oh don’t tell me you don’t know either!” He groaned and threw his hands up in the air. „It’s **_NOON!_** How can you not know? It’s so _EASY!_ ”

I laughed, because I immediately knew what this was about.

„I guess it was on an Activity card and John got angry at you because you described this word like this?”

„Exactly. Finally, at least you know something.” Sherlock grumbled and turned back to his laptop. „I also told him just before the time ran out that he needed two letters. What’s in all of your skulls, I wonder?”

„Not everyone’s a genius, Sherlock”, I pat his shoulder than sat down in John’s chair.

I tried not to think of how much I missed Mycroft already, but it must’ve been written on my face anyway. Sherlock stood up and wandered to the bookshelf, picking up and giving something to me. Apparently, it was the book I bought for myself with his card.

„Wow, how did you know I wanted to buy this?” I mused and he rolled his eyes. I accepted the book and grinned at him. „Thank you, Sherlock.”

„You’re welcome.” I watched him walk back to his chair. I opened the book and started to read it – remembering I had the other book in my bag that I read when I was at Mycroft’s house. „How was the meeting?”

I glanced up at his back. He didn’t look at me.

„It was alright, I think.”

I wasn’t about to say anything bad about his mother, but really, I’ll probably never forgive her how he treated Mycroft.

„Next time you’ll meet her I’ll be with you”, I saw he was grinning.

 _Next time?_ I sincerely hoped it wouldn’t come so soon.

I was very, very wrong about this. I had no idea I’d meet their parents soon, and under what circumstances. If I knew, I probably would’ve just simply left Baker Street before it happened.

But I had no idea. I was unaware of the future. And I hated it.

As minutes turned into hours, I found myself producing symptoms of Mycroft withdrawal. My throat was so tight I couldn’t eat or drink. I couldn’t concentrate on the books I was reading. I constantly was worried something bad happened to him and no matter what I tried – playing with Sherlock, having a shower, doing prostrations – it didn’t cease.

So in the evening, I called him. He picked up immediately.

„Love? What’s wrong?”

I sniffed and curled up on Sherlock’s bed. The way he called me now made it even worse, but at least I heard his voice and I knew he was alright.

„I miss you”, I whined, lips curving down. „So much…”

„I miss you too”, he said and I heard he was smiling. „It’ll be also strange to sleep alone tonight, without my favourite, personal sticker.”

I cried and laughed at the same time. Sleeping. Alone. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do that.

„Please be careful”, I begged him.

„I’ll be alright, love. I have several alarms installed around the house. Nobody can get in.”

„Then why can’t I be there with you?”

„Because I’ll have to leave to work tomorrow and I wouldn’t be able to leave you there alone. It’s better if you’re with Sherlock.”

I understood the reasons behind his motives, but I still hated we were so far away from each other.

„I love you”, I whispered. „Goodnight, Mycroft, sleep well.”

„Goodnight to you too, my love. Sweet dreams.”

I hung up and buried my face in Sherlock’s pillow. For some reason, I still felt terrible.


	20. Begin the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "No need to disguise or to pretend,  
> Don't misconstrue and don't misapprehend.  
> There's nothing left, no fortress to defend,  
> And tonight's the night that we begin the end."

As much as I liked to spend time with Sherlock, I still didn’t feel well. The days passed with me gathering students all over London to get them to my brand new yoga studio; and about thirty people were interested in. I did a little calculation how much money I’d need to keep the place up and how much I’d need to buy myself food and sent everyone an ’about’ price. It seemed they were alright with it; I didn’t really want them to pay much and I didn’t need the excess money either.

So, the first class was scheduled on 28th December.

Mycroft, of course, disliked the idea that I wanted to go there to teach. So he persuaded me to get a few guards of his near the place. I agreed. I needed something to distract me and this would suffice… while he needed to know I was safe. I had to make amends.

On that day I was very nervous. John came with me; he didn’t want me to go there alone. The class would start at 17, but I wanted to go there at 16. To light candles, incense, to arrange the place to my taste. I got into a rather peaceful state as I whispered a few mantras to myself and started to warm myself up for the class.

It went very well. It was only an hour long session, but the people – more women than men – said the next time we should do this for two hours. And I agreed to it. Why not? It’d only take an evening during the week, so it would be alright if we spent two hours with yoga.

When I put everything away and got my coat on, I asked the two guards to let us leave and they all nodded, following me. We walked out and I locked the place tight before I turned and noticed the black car standing there. I smiled when the driver opened the door for me. I smiled at him and got in the car.

„How was the first class?” Mycroft asked and I felt a warm hand touching mine. I smiled at him. „You had quite a few people in there.”

„It was perfect”, I turned to him and gently kissed him. „I’ve missed you.”

„I hoped you did”, he smirked his smug smirk, „that’s why I thought I’d surprise you.”

„It worked.” I snuggled up to him and rested my head on his shoulder. He pulled me close. „Where are we going?”

„I’ll treat you to dinner, then I’ll take you home.”

„Sounds perfect.”

Mycroft hummed. The car was on the way for at least half an hour. When we arrived, it turned out he brought me to where we had the fish and chips. I smiled at him and he smiled back before we got out of the car. I waited for Mycroft to walk next to me, and when he did, he got a hold of my hand. Inside we got our coats off but he brought his umbrella with him when we were led to our table. When the waiter left us alone, Mycroft asked me to stand next to him. He gave me his umbrella.

„I want to show you something.” He stood half behind, half next to me, and put his hand on mine which was on the handle. „Look”, he grumbled when I looked down on our hands. He grabbed the umbrella’s other side and yanked it. I gasped as a sword underneath showed itself. „If you pull the blade out, it’s a gun.”

„Why show me this? I’m not…” I blinked, slightly confused, easing into his hold as I felt his chest against my back.

„You need to know”, he whispered in my ear and I nearly melted away. He pushed the umbrella back on the sword and gave it to me. „Carry this with you from now on.”

„No…” I whispered and I blinked rapidly at the umbrella. „It’s yours. You need it more than I do.”

He gently pulled my wrist and I turned to look up in his eyes.

 _„Please”_ , Mycroft said quietly and I sighed, nodding.

„Alright. If it makes you feel better…”

„Thank you”, he kissed my forehead. „Now, tell me how did that yoga class go tonight.”

I told him all, which wasn’t much. We ordered food and kept waiting. As I watched him, I saw my current, calm mood slowly started to calm him down as well, but he still frequently tapped the table with his fingers. I understood he was stressed.

„What’s the matter?” I asked then, when we were silent for at least five minutes.

„It’s nothing”, Mycroft shook his head. „Just rough day at work.”

I knew it wasn’t, but I didn’t want to make him more stressed by arguing. We spent the time examining one another and we both wondered what the other was thinking. I held his hands and rubbed his skin gently. We ate in silence and my thoughts wandered around our current situation, around the fact why he showed me that his umbrella was more than just an umbrella. It made me uneasy. It wasn’t like I’d hurt another being, even if I was in danger… I just didn’t want that. I always tried to avoid hurting others if possible.

Later that night, I wished I could’ve had the chance to use his umbrella as a gun.

I reached out with my foot and touched his under the table. I smiled, playfully, but he looked so grim I pulled my leg back with a sigh. I saw him swallow nervously and I couldn’t help but wonder why was he so different tonight. Didn’t he miss me too? Was all of what he said just a lie? I wasn’t important then? The more I thought, the worse condition I started to get into and he noticed it. I knew he did.

But this time, he said nothing to comfort me.

Half an hour later we finished eating and I complimented the food, silently suffering and on the verge of tears. I missed my Mycroft. This new, stressed one was way too cold and distant for me. I blamed his work; why else would he be so nervous? I couldn’t put a finger on it.

„I’m sorry love”, he sighed as he paid for our food. I watched him move and said nothing. „I’m too occupied with all the thoughts that need to… resolve themselves.”

„It’s alright”, I said quietly and he got a hold of my hands upon the table.

„It’s not.” He rubbed my fingers and I realised his skin was cold. Why? It was nice and warm in here. As I looked in his eyes again – how pale he was just struck me –, I realised there was something strange in his look. A shadow… a shadow of fear. He was afraid, but of what, I couldn’t make out. „And I can only hope I can make it up for you in the future.”

„You’re doing it again”, I whispered and I pressed my lips together, hard, to prevent myself from starting to cry.

„I know, dearest. I’m sorry…” He cleared his throat then stood up, reaching for my coat to offer it to me. „I’ll take you back to Baker Street now.”

I felt a slight, uneasy feeling as we walked back to the car. We sat in, silent for at least ten minutes when something strange happened. The road was covered in thick fog. That was rather unusual, given the fact it was cold outside, but the air was clean just before I met Mycroft. Then the car suddenly stopped. The driver grumbled something before he got out.

I felt Mycroft pushed his umbrella against my leg. It was so dark I couldn’t see his face. Then suddenly, the door next to me was torn open. Someone got a hold of my neck – the fingers held me so tight I could barely breathe as I tried to claw for anything to hold onto. I grabbed the umbrella as I was pulled out from the car and tossed aside like a doll. I flied at least a meter away from the car and I saw the man – and I knew who it was – had a gun.

My hands acted instinctively as I yanked the umbrella and lurched forward with the sword, cutting Adam’s thigh. He was already pointing at Mycroft with his gun, but at my sudden – and completely unexpected – attack he missed. But he still could shoot.

And Mycroft let out a painful moan.

„No!” I hissed and moved to attack again, pulling back the blade when Adam turned to me, half of his face covered with a mask as he pulled out another gun and shot me with it without thinking. A stinging feeling settled in my right shoulder and I started to get numb immediately, but I still managed to throw myself at Adam. The driver got out of the car and shot at Adam.

That was the moment I blacked out.

I had no idea for how long I’ve been out, but I woke up in a dark room. Adam was in front of me as I started to get myself together and I had no idea why was I shaking and why did I feel terrible. Then I remembered. When it came all back to me, I couldn’t care about my ex was very close and very real.

„He gave me a lot of trouble, I’ll give him that”, Adam smiled and I froze. He played with a dagger in his right. „It took me more time than I anticipated it would. Getting to you, I mean. But, well, I told you you can’t escape me.”

„What happened to him?” I asked and my voice shook violently.

„To him?” He arched a brow so high it almost ran off of his forehead. „To Mycroft? He’s dead. I shot him in the chest. I didn’t stick around to see the end of him, I wish I had the time, but ah well… he’s certainly dead.”

I felt the panic took me again. I lost contact with the world. I faintly sensed Adam stood and walked over to me, slapping me hard and cutting the clothes off of me, I felt him moving my numb, unresponsive body to satisfy his sick fantasies with it. As he raped me, he kept his dagger to my throat, but I didn’t struggle. I couldn’t.

There was no point.

It felt like I was seperated from my body – I felt the pain, but it didn’t touch me at all. When Adam was finished and he started to slap me to get a response, I remained, only tears filled my eyes as I slowly drifted from the state of denial to recognition. He’d order an entire army to get me out of this situation. He didn’t. So what Adam said must’ve been the truth.

_Mycroft was gone._

**_He left me._ **

He promised he wouldn’t and he did. He told me he’d protect me from harm and he didn’t. He didn’t keep his promises. Any of them. I felt betrayed and hurt and broken and I faintly remembered what he made me promise to him. As I lied on the ground on my back, clothes ripped off of my body, staring at the ceiling, I realised there was no point in existence.

I got back control, but I didn’t do anything to try and escape. I glanced up at Adam, who was speaking to me, but I understood nothing of it. It didn’t make sense anymore, nothing did.

_I was done._

„Kill me”, I whispered and he looked down at me confused.

„What?”

„Kill me.”

Mycroft knew. He knew this would happen. That’s why he was so upset today, why he took me away from the city during Christmas, why he did everything in his power to ensure I wouldn’t do anything stupid. To keep me alive when he was gone. But he was a fool if he truly thought I’d keep my promises after he broke his. If he was entitled to forsake me, I had the opportunity to do the same with the rest of the world.

„I think that would be rather unwise!”

I turned on my side to curl up and cover myself with the remainder of my clothes. _Sherlock…_ how did he find us so fast? Adam wanted to run away, but I got a hold of his leg. He tried to kick me off, but I only held on to him tighter. So be it. If things turned out like this, I’d cooperate as much as I could. Sherlock also told me before they had a plan – maybe that plan went wrong. Maybe they didn’t calculate that Mycroft would die during it…

My head was a mess. Especially after Adam kicked it.

I let his leg go when a harsher tone lashed out.

„Stop or I’ll shoot!”

_John._

I curled up more and buried my face in my hands. Of course, he ran away and they went after him. Then a few policemen showed up and they helped me to get out of there. I couldn’t see, hear or feel anything. I was, once again, in that distant, detached state of mind. They gave me new clothes, a shirt and trousers, not really my size, but I didn’t care, and they brought me to an ambulence car.

I didn’t know how much time passed. I realised I've been holding onto someone. I slowly started to feel how sore I was; the way my arms and legs were aching, the dull pain pulsing between my thighs. I clawed at the coat between my fingers, and I noticed it was indeed Sherlock who held me.

"My... Mycroft..." I whimpered in Sherlock's chest and he pulled away to look at me. His expression was distorted with pain and I knew his reply before he even said anything. I brought my shaking hands on my face and if he didn't hold me, I would've fallen apart. "No... no, please..."

„I’m sorry”, Sherlock whispered and brought me back to his chest. His voice cracked and I cried harder. „I’m so sorry…”

Once again, I had no idea how much time passed. I woke up in Sherlock’s bedroom and he was sitting on the edge of the bed next to me, typing something on his phone. When I stirred, he quickly glanced at me, his expression carefully guarded.

„How are you feeling?” He asked and I didn’t reply, just stared at him. „Look, I brought you food. You’ve been out for seven hours.”

I blinked and I was so tired, my eyes burnt and I wasn’t sure I wanted to start and think about everything that happened. No. That’d be too painful.

„Eat, Leda.” Sherlock grumbled and I wondered briefly how could he be so calm? Why wasn’t he upset?

„I’m not hungry.”

„I promised I’d look after you.” His words made me pant all over again. I started to hyperventilate and he put his phone down to turn to me and get a hold of my hands. „Leda, please. Don’t let me down. We need each other, now.”

„No… nn… no…”

At the thought of what happened to Mycroft… my brain decided it’d shut itself down again and I jumped into this feeling when I lost contact with my body again. Here, nothing hurt.

As I was in a condition I wasn’t aware of just until now that it happened, it was a miracle I didn’t wake up in a padded room. Though, secretly, I wished I would. Here, though, three people constantly asked me several questions. _Hungry? Thirsty? Talk?_

No.

_No._

**_No._ **

I still didn’t come to terms with what happened, I simply refused to accept it. But on the next day, I got up and started to do prostrations. I still was in the clothes I got from the policeman and I didn’t care about that either. I lost counting it after the first 108. A few hours later Sherlock found me lying on the ground, both of my knees and hands bruised.

„Leda, you’ve got to get yourself together. Mummy wants to see you.”

 _Mummy._ His mother. Myc… **_his_** mother. I swallowed and turned to the wall, curling up and nearly snuggling to it as if I said _leave me alone._

„Where’s she?” Her voice irritated me to no end. This woman… if she only knew how much pain she caused to Mycroft… „She can’t be in mourning though, now that she got what she wanted…”

The anger fueled my will to get up and let out all of this killing frustration at her. I turned my head just slightly, Sherlock still stood next to me.

„Come on”, he said and reached for my arm. „Let’s meet her. It’ll do you good. Then you can rest a little.”

I obeyed when he pulled me up. I barely could move, everything of me ached. He brought me out of his room and I didn’t care how messy I looked.

„Oh my, she really let herself down.” Mother noted. Her words picked at my calm look. She was sitting on the couch I spent weeks sleeping on. „What did he even see in her, I’ll never know.”

She talked so easily about Mycroft in past tense. Not even a sign of her crying or being upset that her son died.

 ** _Died._** That was it. Mycroft was dead and she showed no pain to the world. She was just… sitting there and smirked at me.

„What do you even know about him”, I whispered, my voice hoarse from the long hours of crying.

„Pardon? What did you say?” Her smile started to disappear and my wrath started to wake up from its slumber.

„You don’t even know Mycroft. You have no idea how much you bullied him and how he changed because of you.”

„What do you know about my son, little girl?” She asked back in a rather annoyed tone. „How much time did you spend with him? _A few weeks?_ **I raised him up.** ”

„And how did you?!” I started to raise my voice and my face flushed. „Do you have any idea how much he suffered because of you?!”

It didn’t occur to me how Sherlock didn’t interrupt. Of course, he was standing next to me, but made no comments about how I talked to his mother.

„And what killed him in the end?” She smiled again and I wanted to hit her. „ ** _You did._** It’s all on you. And **_him_**. He was **stupid** for keeping you around. If he never did, he’d still be alive. But he was so **_stupid_** he believed he loved you and you loved him back.”

I felt the tears gathering in my eyes and I started to scream. That was the moment Sherlock interrupted and nudged me back in his room, soothing me as I lost contact with the world again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Look me in the eye, say that again,  
> Blame me for the sorry state you're in.  
> It's not my fault if you can't comprehend,  
> That tonight's the night that we begin the end..."


	21. Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "He can't do anything to change my mind."

That night was a nightmare.

I kept checking my phone to get a phonecall from _him_ that _he_ was alive and well, thank you very much. Every second I kept watching the phone, I didn't move. I sat on Sherlock's bed and pulled my legs up, hugging them to myself tight and stared at the black screen of the phone which didn't ring.

Not the first hour. Nor the second. Nor the third. Fourth. Fifth.

I was tired and my stomach grumbled but I couldn't think of food. I walked out in the bathroom and had a shower, changing the clothes to a shirt and yoga pants, then I resumed my original position.

I didn't realise Sherlock and John was around me and that they kept asking questions.

I may have fallen asleep in that position but when I checked the phone, nobody called me. I lied down on my side in the bed and kept staring at the phone until I dozed off.

Then I had a nightmare, from which I woke up in my sweat and screamed like a banshee. I couldn't remember what was it, but I realised I was, once again, in Sherlock's arms, with him soothing me.

The next day I tried to set up a routine. I realised what I did was unhealthy, so John's offering to eat something, I obliged and managed to eat a single slice of bread. Wasn't much, but he stopped nagging me when he saw I started crying again. I went back in Sherlock's bedroom and decided I'd do prostrations.

My original plan was to do 'only' 108 of them, as it is custom in most buddhist schools. I ended up doing them until I passed out, because when I moved, my brain was set on the course of the movement, not on thinking. To make it easier for myself, I kept murmuring mantras during it, so I became completely focused on what I was doing instead of what I should be thinking of.

When I realised I pushed myself too far, it was too late. I was exhausted and there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn't move. Both my knees were bleeding underneath my yoga pants, but I didn’t feel it. When Sherlock came in to check up on me and saw me lying on the floor – again –, he sighed.

"What happened?" He grumbled as he gently grabbed my arm and my legs to lift me up and put me in his bed. I didn't react. I stopped looking at people's faces. I stared at him, but didn't make eye contact, no matter how he tried to get into my line of view. "Leda, are you here now?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to talk?"

As a reply, I turned on my other side. Sherlock sighed again and got up, leaving me there.

 

I washed my clothes with my hands.

Five days after, my yoga pants gave up at my knees. As I washed them, I was thinking about trying to sew them together, but I knew it didn’t even matter anymore. I probably should just stick to my routine and forget everything else. There wasn’t any reason to hold onto my life before _he_ …

I kept thinking about the Four Noble Truths of Buddha. I started to say them to myself as I kept washing my clothes and I tried to cling onto it as a new lifestyle.

It didn’t work much. Because even though I knew a lot about the truths of the Enlightened One, I still couldn’t accept how _he’s_ been taken away from me and how much I’ve lost that night.

The pain was too great.

It was just impossible at the moment.

 

"Leda, we need to talk about a few things."

It felt like Sherlock's voice came from far away. I was sitting on the floor, my back to the wall. As tired as I was, I probably dozed off a few times with my laptop in my lap.

"Yes?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

"Your yoga course. It's today."

"I cancelled it."

Sherlock looked disappointed.

"Leda, I think it'd do you some good. Please go and teach."

"No."

I looked back at the screen. Sherlock shifted his weight to one foot to the other. Then he got something out of his pocket.

"There's also the problem of... _his_ last will."

I froze. I felt like the blood stopped in my veins.

"What about it?" I asked in a monotone voice.

"Myc..."

"Don't say _his_ name!" I snapped as my hands started to shake violently.

I put my laptop on the ground and felt Sherlock crouch in front of me. I didn't look at him; I kept staring at his duvet's corner.

"Everything _he_ had is yours alone."

"I don't care."

"Leda, please..."

"Do whatever you want with _his_ belongings, I don't care about them."

Even thinking of _his_ country house made me sick to the stomach. Everything would remind me of _him_ too much. As a matter of fact, I had a plan. And in that future I started to build for myself... there was no place for yoga classes and _his_ belongings. Actually, I was about to leave the country and never look back at it again. I've made sure to leave a file here on my laptop for Sherlock... I hoped he'd understand.

"But..."

"Keep everything or give them to charities, I don't want anything _he_ owned."

"Leda..."

"I'm sure you can fake a paper in my name."

He reached out for my chin to turn my head. I stared blankly at his face, but never in his eyes. I didn't want to make contact.

"I want to go home", I said, again, in that monotone voice. "I can carry on alone."

"I don't think that would be a good idea..."

"I know better than you what's good for me."

Sherlock sighed.

" _He_ wouldn't want to see you like this."

That felt like a dull stab to my dead heart.

" _He_ doesn't care about me anymore, wherever _he_ is."

We stayed silent for a few minutes. Then he pulled out something else from his pocket.

"If you press this button, it'll call me and I'll talk to you when you need it. I have to go to check a crime scene."

I didn't respond in any way. Sherlock moved my left arm and put the wristband with the button on it, then he stood up and left.

I spent the time trying to set up my new life, then before I went to bed, I did the usual 108 prostrations. Every day I did the same. I got up early, did 108 prostrations, murmured my mantras for two hours, meditated a bit, studied buddhism. I ate a slice of bread during the morning and only drank tap water during the day. I needed to train my system. The afternoon seemed to be the same vice versa, study, meditate, mantras, 108 prostrations, bath, bed. And it was going around and around. _Endlessly._ I didn't think about my personal life or what I lost, not since Mrs Holmes was here. I didn't respond when I was asked; it wouldn't matter to anyone anyway what I thought or felt.

I buried myself in my future life, not in the life I never could have anymore.

The next day I moved back in my apartment and tossed my belongings on the sofa. On the ninth day I went in my bedroom for something and what I found here broke me into pieces.

 ** _Someone_** — and I exactly knew _who_ — restored my prayer corner. A brand new table stood there with a brand new Buddha statue on top of it, with new prayer flags. I noticed a buddhist mala around the statue's neck: made from obsidian. There was also a handwritten note on the table before the Buddha.

_Please forgive me,_

_My Love._

_Mycroft Holmes_

I didn't realise I fell to my knees and started to cry. I crumbled, fell apart, and nothing could help me now to put me back together again. I pushed my forehead against the carpet beneath and pulled myself together as I screamed in pain.

It was _his_ doing. Because **_he_** saw how I felt when we discovered Adam thrashed my corner. Maybe that's why we couldn't meet a day after we came back in London; because _he_ was taking care of this.

I've tried to calm myself down but no matter how much I pushed, nothing helped. I remembered the wristband and I pressed the button as I continued to cry and scream. A moment later I faintly heard Sherlock's voice from the wristband.

"Leda? It's alright. Listen to me and breathe, okay? Breath in, slow, that’s it…"

It worked. Sherlock, somehow, had the power to calm me down when nothing seemed to stop it. I slowly gained back the power over my body and I stopped crying as well.

"That's it. How are you feeling?"

"Horrible..." I whispered as I wiped my face and got up, carefully trying to avoid looking at my new prayer corner again.

"Do you want me to come over?"

"No... thanks, no. I'm fine."

"Alright. Call me when you need me."

I thanked him and bid him goodbye as I got out clothes from my wardrobe. Then I left the bedroom as quickly as I could and decided I'd rather sleep on the floor.

The next day, the time finally has come. I put a few things together; the phone I got from _him_ , my laptop with the message on the screen for Sherlock. I decided I'd take a look at the prayer corner again; I knew it'd be painful, but I had to face it. For the last time. And so I did. I started panting again, but tried to be swift. I removed the mala from the statue and ran out again. With the necklace between my fingers I felt much more calm. So I put it around my neck, then got my wallet in my coat's pocket and locked everything else I owned in my apartment.

I only had my new mala, the keys and my wallet with me.

As I walked down to Baker Street, I took in the buildings and the people's faces; as if I waved each and every one of them goodbye. When I arrived and knocked, Mrs Hudson opened the door and the way she was staring at me silently I knew I looked horrible. I didn’t look in her eyes.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Hudson", I whispered, "is Sherlock home?"

"Just John", she stepped out of the way and I hesitantly stepped inside. My heart jumped up in my throat as I remembered how I met _him_ down here a few times. "Is something wrong, dear?"

"No, I'm fine." It didn't occur to me I talked much slower than usual. "I'll just go and talk to John."

And I went right up. I walked up the stairs, the last time in my life. I took in the sight of it all; I knew I'd come here in my dreams often. But those will be only dreams after today.

"Hey Leda", John stood from his armchair but I waved him to sit back down. I walked to Sherlock's chair and sat, looking around, everywhere except his face and especially his eyes. "What brings you?"

"I'm leaving."

John stayed silent for a few minutes.

"Leaving? That sounds grim."

"I'm not going to kill myself, don’t worry", I sighed tiredly and started to fidget with my new mala. I examined how the beads reflected the light in the room. "I'm moving to Tibet."

"Tibet?" John echoed. I nodded. "What for?"

"I'll... join a buddhist monastery there. Everything's settled. My plane will leave at 3pm. I came to say goodbye."

The silence stretched long between us. I didn't want to look up and see the shock and hurt on his face. I was sure this news shocked him and I also was sure he’d try and convince me to stay, but I did everything in my power to prevent that from happening. Actually, it was easier for me that Sherlock wasn’t here. He probably would end up tying me to his bed.

"Are you sure about this?" John asked. "There're... a few things we should go through together."

 ** _Together._** I swallowed thickly.

"I'm not attending _his_ funeral", I whispered. Tears gathered in my eyes. " ** _I can't._** Not after... not after how I treated _his_ mother. I'm no one anyway."

"But you were important to _him_..."

" ** _No!_** " I snapped angrily. My fingers jerked around the beads. "Don't talk about _him_!"

John sighed.

"So this is it."

"Yes. End of the line."

"But you'll... you'll tell us you've arrived safely, yes?"

"If you want me to", I sighed. Then I finally looked up at him. I knew I should smile, but I lost the ability to do so. I just nodded at him. "Thanks for everything, John. Please give my regards to Sherlock."

"He'll be very angry at both of us. Maybe he'll even go after you."

I shook my head, though I knew that wouldn’t be out of character.

"He can't do anything to change my mind. It's final. Everything in this city reminds me of..." I cut off abruptly then I stood up and looked around once more. "I have to get outside the box."

I sniffed and turned away when John stood up as well, escaping any physical interaction with him as much as I was capable of doing. Then I left the apartment quickly. I didn’t hear how John mumbled my name after me and how he got his phone out of his pocket to call Sherlock. I was already out in the street when he finally reached Sherlock.

„Yes, John, what is it? I’m at Bart’s.”

„Leda is leaving the country today.”

„What? Don’t be ridiculous. She can’t even…”

„She just left Baker Street. Said she’d go to Tibet to join a monastery. I guess she can’t cope with reality and she does her best not to end up…”

There was a moment of silence before Sherlock let a curse slip out.

„ _Directly_ to Tibet?”

„I have no idea. Why is it important?”

„She can’t leave London.”

„Why not?”

Sherlock cursed again.

„Just stop her!”

John walked to the window and saw Leda getting in a cab.

„She just got into a cab. Sherlock, what’s the part you’re not telling me?”

„Plane, time!”

„Sherlock!”

**„THE TIME!”**

„Three.”

„Stop the cab, then.”

„Sherlock, I’m not sur–”

**_„STOP HER!”_ **

Then Sherlock hung up and John stood in the middle of the room before he picked up his coat with numerous swear words.


	22. Reunion

I leaned back against the seat and watched the city. I smiled at the Big Ben when we bypassed it and also took a last look at the Eye, thinking I should’ve tried it when I had the chance. I wrapped my fingers around my mala and started to whisper Om Mani Padme Hum to myself so I’d stop thinking.  
Not like it worked.  
I always tried to escape any and all thoughts concerning _him_ ever since that fateful last day of ours, but now that we bypassed Westminster and I saw one of the restaurants nearby where we had our ever first date, I couldn’t help myself. I stopped the mantra and continued rolling the beads between my fingers. There was the first time I ever realised how _he_ was looking at me and in my hands was the last gift from _him_ when _he_ was still alive and breathing. I broke down, crying again. Nothing would bring _him_ back, _he_ was only alive in my memories from now on. _He_ ’d fade away with time – my memory wasn’t as good as _his_ was – but I was sure that this gaping hole in the middle of my chest won’t be filled up with anything, ever.  
 _He_ took the best part of me with _him_ to the afterlife.  
When I prayed, I prayed that _he_ ’d have an even better rebirth. Now, that was all I could do for _him_. There was nothing else I could do. _He_ was far, far away from me and I couldn't reach _him_ anymore.  
I thought of the funeral John probably was hinting at. I imagined the family and all the people who knew _him_ , gathering around a coffin or an urn. My stomach turned. The nausea was so strong I felt my face turned pale. I wouldn't be there. And _his_ mother could whine about it all she wanted, saying how big of a liar I was. That I didn't even love _him_ enough to show up at _his_ funeral. I literally could hear the words she probably was going to utter with so much hatred that I fell apart all over again.  
It wasn't in my plans to show disrespect toward _him_. I didn't want to be there because I was weak. Everyone who said they knew _him_ never even shed a tear for _him_. Not even Sherlock. Not even _his_ mother. But when _he_ was taken from me, _he_ took everything I had and there was nothing which remained but pain, suffering and tears.  
And I wasn't ready to put that on show for other people. Ever. My grief was mine alone.  
Because that was all I had left.  
The cab stopped and I paid the driver who looked at me strangely. I wondered what he was thinking, why was I crying and why came to the airport completely alone, without any luggages. I put my mala around my neck again and walked inside the airport, watching people but not seeing anyone. I walked up to one of the queue and shortly after, I showed my ticket to a young, smiling woman, who frowned at the paper.  
"I'm so sorry, it turns out the plane to your direction is delayed."  
I sighed.  
"Delayed?" I looked up at the departing planes. "When will it leave, then?"  
"We are unsure. At least three hours. I'm terribly sorry."  
Damn it. Three hours. That'd give enough time for Sherlock to hunt me down, even in this crowd. I nodded and took my ticket back, then decided I'd linger around a little. I watched happy families with a heavy heart, remembering what _he_ told me about children at Christmas. I turned away. Then I saw a couple saying goodbye to one another and I thought I never told _him_ goodbye and never even will. I turned again.  
But everywhere I looked, reminded me of my own life.  
I wasn't panicking, not right now. Even if I did, I wouldn't be able to connect Sherlock, I left my wristband at home. So I made my way to the toilets and decided I'd hide there.  
There was so much noise. People washed then dried their hands with the airblade, flushed toilets and even the airport had its usual murmuring about arriving and leaving planes from the speakers. But, at least, I didn't have to look at anyone's questioning face here. I turned the lid down and sat, locking the door. From the speaker I could guess how much time passed. So I kept murmuring my quiet mantra with the mala in my hand.  
Two and a half hours later I left the toilet and made my way back to the same queue as before. When the woman saw me, I saw it on her face that something indeed was wrong with my plane again.  
"I'm terribly sorry, your plane is cancelled for today."  
Cancelled. How could they cancel a plane?  
"What's the problem with it?" I asked tiredly, but I sounded extremely calm. "Is the weather wrong?"  
"No, ma'am. It is simply cancelled. It won't leave today."  
I blinked, slow, then rubbed the bridge of my nose. Sherlock probably knew by now where I was. And when he found me, he'll try and persuade me to stay.  
I can't let that happen. I'm weak.  
"Is there any way I could get there? Can I buy another ticket to a now leaving plane?"  
"Sorry, we're full. The closest is next Saturday and it goes to Thailand."  
Why can't it be easy? Why must I face these impossible obstacles? Who put them in my way and why? Can't I leave this damned city in peace?  
"Thanks", I grumbled rather to myself, picking up my ticket and shoving it back in my wallet. That was the moment a security guard approached me. I looked up at him. "Yes? Is something wrong?"  
"No, ma'am, but you'll have to come with me."  
"I'm going home, thank you very much."  
This was nonsense. The universe probably had a plot against me to drive me insane. This only could happen in a comedy... which was a tragedy, for me.  
"I'm sorry, but I've been instructed by Sherlock Holmes to bring you to him."  
Sherlock. Of course. It was all his doing. How could he persuade them to first delay, then cancel a plane? Was it in his power, even, to do so? And even if it was, why was he doing it? Why couldn't he let me go?  
So, with a sigh, I nodded to the guard and followed him. After all, I wouldn't make it outside. I was exhausted and my strength left me long ago. I might as well tell Sherlock to mind his own business. After all, I wasn't anyone to him. I didn't feel like I had to explain myself to anyone, especially to him, who was with me through the hardest of times and knew how much all of this damaged me.  
Why couldn't he just let me go?  
I followed the man down a long, rather abandoned corridor and we entered a room in which Sherlock, a desk and a big, black leather chair was, with its back turned to me. Sherlock leaned against the desk and his face immediately changed.  
"Hey Leda", he flashed a half smile at me. "I couldn't reach you on your phone."  
"I've left most of my belongings in my home, haven't you been there?" I asked, tired, voice hoarse. "I thought that's how you've figured out where am I."  
"No, John called me just after you've left Baker Street."  
"Well. Maybe I should've just told you I left when I arrived in the monastery. I made a mistake."  
Sherlock looked at me like he couldn't decide what to say next.  
"No. **_I_** made a mistake."  
I shifted from one foot to my other, waiting, but he didn't continue just stared at me. I didn't detect anything about his posture and his expression. I didn't notice he was distressed. I wanted this to be finished so I could go and do something... which stops my brain from thinking.  
"Sherlock, are we done? I want to go home. I don't feel right."  
"No, we're not done. I want to talk about Mycr—"  
"Don't!" I shouted, but my voice was weak. He swallowed and I leaned against the door. "Don't, please. I... I can't."  
He sighed deeply.  
"Why are you running away?"  
"You know already."  
"Tell me."  
My hands started to shake.  
"I'm weak, Sherlock. I can't... I can't stick around. Everything reminds me... I have to get away from the past. If I stayed here I'd... I just can't." I wrapped my arms around myself. "And I can't meet with your family, not after the things I've said to your mother. I was horrible. I wouldn't be able to go through a funeral and I wouldn't be able to look at... I want to remember _him_ the way I last saw _him_..."  
Sherlock cleared his throat.  
"There's the mistake I made. You're going to hate me, but I promised I'd tell you. So here it is." He took a deep breath and steeled himself. I couldn't understand what was he talking about. "I've lied to you."  
I blinked at him. When? About what?  
"Sherlock... I really don't have any idea..."  
"I lied to you because I had to know... Mummy wanted to know..."  
He seemed like he searched for the best words to say. I started to get even more confused.  
"She wanted to know what?"  
Sherlock sighed deeply again and ran a hand in his hair.  
" _He_ 's..." He bit his lower lip for a second. _" **Not** dead."_  
I stared for what felt like eternity. What he said didn't make any sense. Adam said he shot _him_. Sherlock and John talked about a **_last will_** and hinted at a **_funeral_**. Of course _he_ was... oh God, _he_ was **d...**  
"What are you talking about?" I got my voice back, now I shook in my shoes from the pain which spread in my body. "How dare you?! What is this sick game?! I was there when _he_ got shot, Sherlock, and all of you kept talking to me how I..." I felt tears stinging in my eyes. "Even your mother said it's my fault _he's... he's..."_  
I held myself tighter, because I felt like I'd fall apart at any moment. Sherlock took a step towards me, hesitating.  
"That is the whole point. I've made a mistake. I've lied to you. _He_ 's alive. _He_ 's in this room with us, now."  
I shook my head and thought this was it, I went insane. I've lost my mind. I'll faint now and wake up in a padded room.  
I didn't faint. Not even when the leather chair turned around and I saw _him_ sitting there with the most bitter and hurt expression I've ever seen on _his_ face. _He_ was pale and _he_ must've lost some weight, but _he_ had my favourite blue three piece suit on and _he_ truly was alive.  
And it was visible _he_ didn't imagine our reunion like this.  
" _He_ 's been unconscious until today morning", Sherlock said quietly but I couldn't take my eyes off of _him_. _He_ left the hospital way too early, I realised. It probably was _him_ who delayed, then cancelled my plane. Because I told John. John told to Sherlock and Sherlock told _him_. It all made sense now. "And _he_ immediately demanded to see you."  
I was ready to scream. To pull all of my hair out. To scratch the flesh off of my bones. I remained, unmoving, shaking as I stood there, and my eyes wandered back on Sherlock's face.  
"Why?" I demanded. "Why?!"  
"Because... Mummy thought it'd be a good idea to see how would you react to it. She was most persistent. And she was wrong, she admits it."  
He reached out for me and I took a step back to the door.  
"Don't... don't you dare...!"  
"We're all very sorry. This never should've happened. She never thought you'd take it so seriously... it was just an experiment."  
The words he used felt like daggers in my chest. I was so upset I didn't feel the tears in my eyes.  
 **"SHE'S A MONSTER!"** I screamed at him, finally before I grabbed the door's handle. **"AND SO ARE YOU!"**  
I tore the door open and ran. I had no idea how much time I'd have before he caught me, but I navigated through the crowd and caught a cab outside as fast as I could. I told my address to the driver and broke down completely.  
I wasn't prepared for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *grins like an idiot*  
> Come on, you all knew. ;)


	23. Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Oh my poor, poor Mycroft._

I was back at my apartment.

After all of those anxiety attacks I had lately, right now, I was way too angry to have one. When I arrived home, I started to tear the place apart while I was screaming.

I couldn’t handle this.

What Sherlock and their mother did to me was the meanest, cruelest deed in the entire human history. The lingering pain of loss still was in my chest but it started to vanish as this extreme hatred I felt as I tore pillows apart. This time, how I lost contact was very different. I knew what I was doing but I couldn’t stop myself.

How could they do this to me?! I thought Sherlock was my friend, that he cared for me and liked me. Now it turns out he wasn’t sure about my feelings at all?! Why couldn’t they just let us be as we were?! Even if I was after Mycroft’s belongings and money, why couldn’t they leave us alone?! It was our problem to handle.

I stopped shredding a book apart abruptly and fell on the floor. I pushed my forehead against the floor and started to cry.

**_Mycroft…_ **

_Oh my poor, poor Mycroft._

He must’ve been taken back at the hospital after I left. He looked so drained and hurt. While I was falling apart, he had no idea what was going on and only today did he realise what had happened to me. He woke up, probably in intensive pain and… _and…_ Sherlock said _he wanted to see me immediately after that._

I couldn’t believe he was so stupid to leave the hospital in his state. He’s been _shot_ ; I had no idea how severe his injury was, but from the way he looked like, it must’ve been very bad. And I couldn’t imagine how Sherlock admitted it to him what he’d done. How did Mycroft react to that? I wanted to know.

And I didn’t want to know at all.

I kept thinking how should I carry on with my life after this. Mycroft won’t let me leave the country, I was certain of that. But I couldn’t stay after everything I’ve been through emotionally. Even thinking of them caused me pain.

I needed a break.

First, I demanded my money back because of the cancelled plane and to my utter surprise, they gave the entire sum back to me. Then I started to order a few things online, mainly books and home items which I broke and shred apart. Then I started to put everything I ruined into a black plastic bag.

Fine. If I can’t leave London, I might as well continue my life as if nothing happened. Without any Holmes in it. I couldn’t face Mycroft after what I’ve done at the airport and I didn’t want to see Sherlock at all. So that was it for the time being.

I checked my laptop and phone a few hours after I had a rest. I refused to eat and continued to drink only tap water, so I was very tired around 6. I had several messages online from Sherlock and one from John. I opened John’s message.

**I had no idea, I’m so sorry Leda, please let me know you’re safe.**

_I’m fine. But tell both of them to leave me alone. I have to think._

Maybe John could talk some sense into Sherlock. I powered up my phone and saw I had many missed calls from both Sherlock and Mycroft and even more messages. I opened to see what Mycroft wrote to me.

**Love, I’m so sorry.**

**I never should’ve let this happen to us. I was a fool.**

**The plan was Sherlock’s. I should’ve waited instead until** **Adam** **revealed himself.**

**Where are you? Why aren’t you replying to my messages?**

**Please, Leda, forgive me. I never wanted to do this to you.**

**Please, respond. I’m worried.**

I closed my eyes tight then shut my phone down again. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care! Fine, he was alive. I was alive. We were fine. _I’ll… I’ll just give it time. I needed time._

 

„It’s been five days.”

As he was lying in his bed and kept staring at his brother, he barely even felt the pain. There was something that his mind was on to, something that couldn’t be shrouded with the morphine. Sherlock didn’t look up, he kept watching his fingers.

„I know…” He sighed. „I’ve tried everything.”

„You’re obviously not trying hard enough.”

„I’ve sent her messages everywhere, I’ve even visited her, but she told me to ’piss off’.”

Mycroft hummed. He knew her well and also knew her wrath shouldn’t be taken lightly. But he just couldn’t help himself. He _missed_ her. God, every moment he spent without her presence felt like an unbearable, constant, invisible pain in his mind. It wasn’t physical. He had no experience with this.

Even if he had, he deleted it, because he never wanted to feel it again.

„She contacted John. She replied to him. Why not try that again? I need to know what she thinks.”

„It’s easy to guess what she thinks.” Sherlock finally looked up at Mycroft. „The morphine slows you down.” Mycroft shot him an annoyed look and Sherlock shook his head slightly. „There’s nothing we can do at the moment. She won’t reply to me. I was right, she hates me.”

„Why did you have to do this to her anyway?” He asked this for the hundredth time and every time Sherlock answered, he still didn’t feel his brother’s reason justified. „I’ve **_told you_** , Sherlock.”

„It’s been just two weeks and I’m sure she’s recovering. She started the yoga classes again.”

„I want to make sure she’s fine. Personally.”

„You can’t leave the hospital yet. You need more time.”

„I don’t have the luxury of spending weeks here. The last time I saw her she’s been starving herself. I can’t let that happen.”

„Well she won’t let me near herself so…”

„Do something about it!” Mycroft snapped. „It’s you who messed it all up anyway!”

 

_Day 15 since he’s been shot._

I’m still burning with anger. I was exhausted but I thought it was because I spent too much time hating the entire world. And I had to send away Sherlock at least twice a day. My back was aching and so was my lower stomach and I had extreme mood swings. Last night I saw a commercial in the telly and cried for an hour!

_Am I losing my mind?_

As I walked down the street at 9, I bypassed a cafeteria which was also a kind of a bakery. The people were buying themselves various food but I only came for my usual bread. I ate a kilo for a week. At least, I needn’t to spend too much money on food. My fridge’s been empty for two weeks. The amount of money I saved was ridiculous. The weight I lost with this diet was ridiculous, too. As I’ve examined myself yesterday in the mirror, I felt like I was a skeleton.

That’s why I was exhausted. But I didn’t care.

I asked for my usual bread when the smell of coffee suddenly engulfed me. My stomach turned suddenly and I felt so sick I had to put my hand on my mouth. With tears in my eyes I quickly left the place and as I was panting on the street, I wondered why did this happen. It didn’t bother me yesterday when I walked down the street, so why now?

I walked back in after a few minutes, quickly paid for my bread then left in a hurry, because the nausea came back when I felt the smell of the coffee again. I ran home as fast as I could, then locked myself up in my apartment again.

During my meditating session I felt extremely sleepy. So I hid under my duvet and slept. For five hours. What was going on? I groaned as I got up and walked out in the kitchen to have a glass of water.

All I wanted to do was sleep.

 

_Day 19 since he’s been shot._

I still haven’t contacted anyone yet. But I had a problem. A big one.

I couldn’t think of anything else but a deliciously cooked steak with steamed veggies.

No matter what I did, nothing worked. I’ve tried to do prostrations, then tried to sleep, then tried to read, but my mind always wondered back to the steak and the veggies. Juicy, warm, incredibly tasty steak.

 

_Day 24 since he’s been shot._

So I gave in to the temptation. I couldn’t take it anymore.

I powered up my phone, ignored all the messages from people – I still wasn’t ready to face any of them –, and asked exactly what I wanted from a local restaurant.

„Would you like pancakes or ice cream with it?” The man asked politely and I felt my heart sink.

 **!** **PANCAKES** **!**

 **_*_ ** **_ICE CREAM_ ** **_*_ **

„ ** _YES!_** ” I replied before I could stop myself. This craving started to get the best of me. I pushed my arm on my growling stomach. „Yes, pancakes with nutella and vanilla and strawberry ice cream, please. Three-three scoops.”

„Alright, I have everything. The food should arrive in about an hour.”

When he ended the call I sank back in my seat, then buried my face in my hands. Pancakes and ice cream. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. What was going on with me?! I’ll die if I have to wait for an hour.

When it arrived however, I launched myself on the food so viciously I could’ve been mistaken for a starving wolf. I devoured the steak and the veggies so quickly I drowned myself in the taste of it, constantly moaning from the pleasure my taste buds experienced.

Then I looked at the pancakes and the ice cream and thought to myself, no, this was enough. It’s been almost three weeks since I last had normal food in my system other than water and bread, and those would most definitely make me throw up.

But… but I just couldn’t stop myself. I just wanted to check how the pancakes looked. Nicely rolled up… the nutella dripping from their ends… six of them, oh dear, dear maker of mine…

When I realised what I was doing I was already devouring the fourth.

Then I tore the plastic lid off of the ice cream and dipped the nutella pancakes in it.

„Oh my God”, I whimpered when I ate it a second later.

Something was terribly wrong with me.

 

_Day 29 since he’s been shot._

I've tried my best to get back to my normal daily routine but I just couldn't. I constantly kept thinking about food. No matter how I've tried, what I've tried, all I could think of was another portion of steak and veggies.

So I ordered again. And while I was waiting for it, I wandered in the bathroom to pee. I had to pee a lot lately, however I drank as much water as before. As I sat on the toilet, I changed the roll to a new one. I opened the cupboard and tossed the tampons out of the way to get a new roll of toilet paper.

Then I froze.

I stared at the tampons when a thought, a very horrible, dark, cruel thought rang in my head.

**_When was my last period?_ **

I thought back at the near past's events. The days spent here alone, at Sherlock's, at Mycroft's haven. Yepp. The previous one ended just before 20th December. My entire body went numb. **More than a month ago.** _This can't be._

 ** _Can't be._** Mycroft and I always used protection. And even if the condom broke we would've known... we should've known. I didn't realise I started to shake violently as I sat there.

_Yes, Mycroft always used protection._

**But Adam did not.**

I wiped myself and flushed the toilet in complete panic mode and I ran through my home to pick up my wallet as I kept talking to myself in my head. _Can't be, can't be, can't be! I can't be... it's impossible..._ I ran to the nearest pharmacy and asked for a test, I shoved it in my pocket and ran back home. Hurrying was a must as I was sure Mycroft, wherever he was, was still looking after me. If he so much as suspected... but I can't be...

I threw the test on the kitchen table then started to stare at it. What do I do if it's positive? Various thoughts ran through my mind and one was worse than the other. **_I can't keep it._** _I can't kill it. **I won't raise that maniac's child.** I can't hurt an innocent being. **I'm not ready for this.**_

**I don't want this child from Adam.**

**I DON'T WANT IT.**

They told me I'd never have a child, not in a natural way. My ovaries couldn't produce healthy 'material'. The stress degenerated them. And I also had a miscarriage when Adam beat me up once.

It was all Adam's doing to me.

But maybe, maybe how Mycroft treated me... maybe that fixed me a little...

"I can't be pregnant", I whispered and the words I said to myself froze the blood in my veins, because it started to feel _too real._

But everything told me otherwise. Now I realised why I couldn't stand the smell of coffee. Why was I so exhausted. Why I had my cravings and lower abdominal pain.

My food arrived and I ate, all the while staring at the test. Then I cleaned up after myself and kept looking at the little box. I wasn't even sure if I was able to comprehend the outcome of it. I was so scared and alone. I had no one to turn to. If I told John, he'd immediately tell Sherlock. And I didn't want Sherlock to know about it. He'd also tell... oh no...

_Mycroft._

What would Mycroft think? I suddenly felt filthy and guilty because of how Adam violated me. I never told about it to anyone. It happened a lot in the past and ignoring it was how I dealt with it. But now... it felt like it was me who violated my relationship with Mycroft.

**I betrayed him.**

I cheated on him.

Even if it happened without my consent, I let another man inside of me. The intense hatred returned, but I hated myself, this time. I didn't even let myself to be raped, I also accepted this... **this... _thing..._** inside of me... and now, it was **_growing..._**

_I can't take this._

I grabbed the test and ran to the bathroom. When I was successful with doing the test, I waited for it to tell me what was the result. I checked the time, knowing I needed five minutes, and that it'd be the longest five minutes of my life.

"Please don't be positive, please don't be positive..." I kept telling this to myself as I kept walking up and down, holding my arms against my lower stomach. "I can't be pregnant, it's impossible, but... please don't be positive..."

I walked back in the bathroom when the time finally came. I picked up the test — it was a very expensive and very sensitive one — and glanced at the result with my heart in my throat.

And the small digital screen shattered my world to a million pieces.

It was positive.

 

"Yes, sir, I have news. I've been tracking her movement in the past three weeks. She goes to a bakery once a week and buys herself a loaf of bread. She doesn't buy anything else. Never meets anyone, never talks to anyone. Sometimes she walks down to the nearest park and watches the ducks. She teaches yoga every Tuesday for two hours."

"Is that all?"

"Yes."

"Are you certain she doesn't buy anything else?"

"Yes, sir. Absolutely certain."

"Hmm." She could've had items for her 'female needs', more than she needed, at home. He also knew that sometimes the system reacts to stress with period delay. So he didn't worry about it at the moment. "She teaches yoga until when?"

"From 6 pm to 8 pm, sir."

Mycroft leaned back in his seat. He realised sending messages won't work anymore. Not on phone or online. Now that he's been released from that blasted hospital, he knew he had to be more persuasive. And personal. He glanced at the photo of her again. She seemed so fragile, pale but dark around her eyes, and she was so _thin_. Her clothes looked literally baggy around her slender form.

 _What have you done to yourself?_ He thought. _Why are you punishing yourself? We're alive. Adam's captured. You are safe. Why won't you talk to me?_

Of course, she said she wasn't capable of leaving him and he wanted to believe that, but so much time had passed and she never even sent a text to him... something must've been wrong. Maybe she thought this was his doing and was too angry at him. But his senses told him this wasn't the case. He became nervous about it.

"I want to see him."

He stood then, with slight pain in his side. He should've stayed at home, but he couldn't rest properly until he went to the bottom of why Leda treated him like this. To him, that time felt like moments. They went to have dinner, then he was shot and he blacked out, then he woke up in the hospital and... she wasn't with him anymore. He gritted his teeth at the physical pain. He'd rather feel that than being ignored by her. The latter was something he wasn't used to and he missed her kisses and hugs and loving gaze on him.

So selfish. He wanted her to be around him and it felt like he didn't care about anything else.

But, at least, Adam has been captured and locked up in a nice little room. Mycroft examined his face through the glass which was a mirror for Adam and he wondered on and on what to do with him. This man threatened him, Sherlock, John and the one who was the most important to him. He knew Adam had a brief time with Leda together; thanks to Sherlock's clever little obsidian earrings with the built-in trackers Leda still wore even today, the police quickly found them. At least that part of the plan worked.

Mycroft huffed and wanted to release all of his frustration on that man. It was his fault things turned out this way. If Adam truly died as Leda was led to believe, they'd be together. Mycroft never would've been shot and they never would've been seperated.

Of course, it was Sherlock's fault as well, but Mycroft dealt with that by not talking to either him or to his mother. He wasn't entirely sure he'd forgive them what they'd done. Especially after hearing Sherlock's brutally detailed summary of how she reacted to everything.

It truly was a miracle she was still alive. He could've lost her forever. The thought made him desperate and helplessly angry.

So he walked to the door and opened it. He smiled kindly at Adam as he sat on the other side of the table between them.

"Do you have any idea what will I do to you?" Mycroft questioned gently. He seemed so calm. Calm before the storm. " _Any_ idea?"

"I don't give a damn about that", Adam grumbled. "I just want the bitch dead."

Mycroft's face didn't even flinch. That made Adam visibly angrier. He wasn't used to people not responding to his threats.

"I have a nice little vacation spot for those who can't fit into our society." Mycroft leaned back in his seat, his left hand stayed on the table.

"Fuck you and your vacation spot", Adam spat and growled when Mycroft smiled at him. "The last time, about six years ago, when I spent some time with your whore I pushed a blade inside of her. Did you know?" Adam noticed the smile froze on Mycroft's face and grinned evilly. "It was the blade of a military dagger, to be precise. She always liked things inside of her. She denies it but she's a real slut. I've introduced her to many things, household items, but believe me... the dagger was the best. She fainted during it, even though I only promised her ten thrusts with it. She's always been weak." When Mycroft didn't reply in any way, Adam leaned closer and whispered to him, so only Mycroft would hear. "I dipped my wet fingers in salt and put them inside of her. Man, those screams. I never thought she'd wake up because of it."

"Stop it."

"I did it because she dared to talk to other men when I specifically asked her not to do that. She always flirted, even in the bakery. I told you, she's a slut."

"Stop it!"

Mycroft snapped again. Adam narrowed his eyes.

"And yet, even though she knew what punishments she'd receive, she still spread her legs for you. All the discipline for nothing. She never learns. If I get to her again, I'll fill her up with acid."

Mycroft knew that this one time, he might not be able to keep his cool. He took a deep breath and when he talked, his voice was cold and trembled with anger.

"You'll never see the sun again. You'll never be able to reach her again. You'll rot away and you'll never escape from there. Every moment of your pathetic existence will be extremely painful from today." He stood and stared at Adam with disgust. "I'll see to that myself."

As he walked away he could hear Adam's laughter.

Mycroft knew he laughed for the last time in his life.


	24. Runaway

I realised I can never resume my old life.

I couldn't stop crying. I was pregnant. And it’s from Adam. And I knew I wouldn't be able to have an abortion. I can't kill it, it wasn't responsible for trying to live. It wasn't responsible for anything Adam did to me. But I just wouldn't be able to carry it in my body for nine months. The thought made me literally sick to the stomach, so much that I had to throw up. Everything I ate went to waste.

I spent the next few days feeling the same sickness. I couldn't just think of the perfect solution. What if anyone found out? To whom I should turn to for help? I only trusted John at the moment, but I wasn't sure I could tell him something like this. After all, he lived with Sherlock and Sherlock knew John as well as the back of his hand.

It was too late to do anything about this.

On Tuesday, I spent the majority of the time in the yoga studio. I’ve tried to work out a solution on my own, but I soon realised I was way too caught up in the middle in this situation. I was torn. I didn’t want to keep it, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to hurt it.

Both solutions were out of question.

What was even worse that Mycroft would notice it sooner or later. If I didn’t get rid of it – as I probably should do –, he’ll know what happened right away. I wasn’t able to imagine how he’d react to it, but I knew it’d be bad. It’d destroy everything we had together. Would it be easier for me if he hated me?

I wondered… and wondered…

I knew I had a way to make him hate me. I knew I could make him want to even forget I even existed… but was I able to do that to him? After all that happened to us? After how much I loved him? Would that be fair and can I do it for his sake? Now, at the moment, he wouldn’t let me leave the country. He’d keep his eyes on me and he’d know I was pregnant from someone else. And he’d want an explanation.

But if I used that one thing he told me to my advantage… that one thing he told me during Christmas…

**_It’d tear me in two if I see you with someone else._ **

He gave a weapon against himself in my hand. And I must use it, before it’s too late and I give in to the temptation.

I refused to go to have a check up on this… **thing** inside. I wanted to set my mind on letting it go, tried everything in my power to presuade it to leave me alone. Thoughts were strong and this was all I’ve had.

When the class arrived and everyone got their own pillow and sat, I turned to look at them and with a deep sigh, I sat myself.

„Welcome, everyone.” We bowed to each other with our hands put together before our hearts. „I must apologise to you all. Today we’ll have our last yoga together.” I saw the questions written ont he people’s faces, so I continued. „Due to a physical condition of mine, I have to stop doing yoga for a while. I’ll notify each and every one of you if I’m ready to start it again.”

After that, the yoga class went on for an hour, when the door slowly opened and a woman stepped in. I immediately knew who she was and why was she here in her complete, crisp set of suit – despite it was around 7. After I instructed the class to sit and start a breathing meditation, I got up and walked up to the woman who still stood at the door.

„Good evening, Leda. Mr Holmes would like to see you”, she said after I brought her outside and closed the door so the class wouldn’t hear our whispers.

„Who are you?” I asked, in a rather unfriendly tone.

„Anthea, Mr Holmes’s assistant.”

 _Of course._ He chose another after I quit my job. Why did I forget that he needed someone to help him with everything? And why did my stomach turn with jealousy at the sight of this decorative, beautiful and young woman? Compared to her, I looked like a corpse, a skeleton.

„I’m still having my yoga class.”

„He’ll wait for you outside in a car.”

 _Would he? How polite._ I’d bet this woman would stay here to escort me to him, should I think of escaping. Actually, I did. And I already knew how would I make it out.

„Alright.” I nodded as I took a deep breath. My fingers started to play with my obsidian mala. I often did this lately. „I’ll finish my class at 8. Tell him we’ll meet then.”

„Alright. I’ll stay here and take you to him.”

„Perfect.”

She nodded and I opened the door again, walked in and locked it. I can’t afford this Anthea coming in and seeing what I was about to do. I silently walked back up front after I bowed to our Buddha statue, then sat at my place. I kept looking at my watch as I sat down and meditated for five minutes with the class.

I was so glad I wasn’t completely stupid.

Around 7.45, I asked one of the students to come up front, sit next to me and finish the class for me as I needed to go away sooner. I set the timer there to 15 minutes for them and instructed another breathe counting meditation as I packed my stuff in my bag and went to the hidden door to the left side of the room. I managed to create this thing two weeks ago, should I need a route to escape meeting him, _and lo behold,_ it’d be so useful now. I was so glad I made this occasion the last. He wouldn’t have a chance to catch me here anymore, because I wouldn’t show up.

I sneaked out to the alley and managed to run home as quickly as my legs could carry me. I ran up the stairs instead of using the lift and locked myself up in my apartment. I escaped meeting him. _For now._

I wondered how much time would it take him to notice I was gone. As I saw it was five minutes after 8, I leaned back on the sofa, content with myself. Anthea would show up alone and he wouldn’t understand at first what happened. Then… he’d realise I was more cunning and clever than he anticipated.

I wondered if I made him angry at some point.

I had a shower and started to watch a comedy in the telly, but I didn’t care about it really. I was sure I wouldn’t escape this easily from him. After all, he probably healed completely and he knew where I lived.

And – **yes.** Fifteen minutes later there was a knock on my door. I sneaked up to it and peeked out through the little hole made just for that – and he was there. I quickly went out of the way and pushed my hand on my mouth.

 _Oh no, no, **no!**_ He really **_did_** come here!

„I know you’re on the other side of the door and I also know you can hear me.” I closed my eyes tight. I missed his voice and presence so much and now that I heard him talk all I wanted to do was to be in his arms again. But I can’t do that. I shouldn’t do that. I **_betrayed_** him, he deserved someone much more better than me. „Leda, please, don’t do this. I want to talk to you.” As I stayed silent, I slowly slid all the way down to the ground. I started to cry and I muffled the sounds I made. „Love, _please._ Whatever it is, I’m sure we can talk about it and we can fix anything. I know something’s wrong. And I know it’s not because I’ve made the mistake of getting shot. It’s been almost a month.” I shook my head frantically and tried to get myself together, but I fell apart all over again. _I couldn’t… I was **weak…**_ „ _Love, **please** …_ I want to know you’re safe and alright. Let me in.”

**„GO AWAY!”**

I cried as I lowered my hand. I stared forward and felt sharp pain in my lower abdomen, on the right side. _Not now…_

„I’m not leaving until you let me see you.”

I had to do it now. **_I must._** For him. Not for myself. I have to save him from all the pain I have to endure.

„Then you’ll stay there all night! Because I don’t want to be near you!”

„Don’t say this. I know you miss me. I know you’re hurt. _Please,_ love, let me help you. I can help you, whatever makes you so upset.”

I was shaking and sobbing and I barely could think of anything to say. Then the thought clicked again. I bit my lower lip so hard it started to bleed.

„I’m seeing someone else”, I said, my voice hoarse but strong enough for him to hear.

He was silent for a few moments and I was hoping he was gone, but no.

„Dearest, I know you don’t. You’re just trying to push me away. What happened? Please tell me.”

I shook my head and continued crying, then I decided I’d simply leave him there. I walked in my bedroom and fell on the sheets. Minutes passed and fortunately, he didn’t show up. An hour later still nothing. I walked back out and checked if he was still there, but I couldn’t see anyone. I slightly opened the door.

He left. And I didn’t know why this hurt me more than the things that happened to me lately.

I searched for the wristband as I was still crying, the sharp pain becoming constant in my lower stomach. I pressed the button, hard, and Sherlock immediately started to talk to me.

 

„Leda, it’s alright. Don’t worry, it’s fine.”

Sherlock looked up at Mycroft, his phone on hands free mode as they listened to her cry. Sherlock tried his best to soothe her, but it was a different form of crying than before. This was no anxiety attack now.

„I can’t… Sherlock I can’t…”

„You can, just listen to my voice, breathe slower. That’s it…”

It was so complicated. He thought both Mycroft and Leda hated him at the moment, and now that they needed help, they both turned to him. It seemed that they had no other choice. Or a better one. But he expected it to happen. Later, though.

„It hurts, Sherlock…” She wheezed. Mycroft’s face was a mask but Sherlock knew what his brother felt now. „I want it to stop… I don’t want it…”

„Listen, why don’t you come over and we can talk? Hmm?”

„I can’t…”

„Of course you can.”

„No… I can’t stand… it hurts.”

Sherlock frowned. This was unusual.

„What hurts?” But she didn’t reply to it. She started to cry even more desperately and it sounded like she curled up on the floor. Sherlock’s frown deepened. „Listen to my voice, Leda. You’re strong. You can fight it.”

„No, I can’t… I can’t… I sent him away and I need him… I need Mycroft so much but I can’t… I can’t let him know…”

There was a few minutes of her whimpering, then a muffled scream. It froze the Holmes brothers in their chairs. She sounded like she was in extreme pain.

„Are you hurt?”

She suddenly went silent. Only her panting could be heard.

„No. I’m fine.” She sounded way too calm. „Keep Mycroft away from me. Please. Please Sherlock, do this for me.”

„You know I can’t promise something like this…”

 **„PLEASE, SHERLOCK!”** Leda screamed again.

„I _can’t!_ ” He pushed a hand on his forehead. „I’m sorry!”

The line went silent.

„It seems she really doesn’t want me around”, Mycroft spoke softly, calm, with the same expression.

„It’s a lie”, Sherlock sighed, „she said she needs you.”

„Then she asked you to promise you’d keep me away from her.”

„Yes, but why?”

Mycroft blinked, slow. Then he narrowed his eyes.

„Tell me, how much time passed before you caught Adam?”

„Not much. Twenty minutes.”

Mycroft hummed. He couldn’t ask Adam anymore, he wasn’t in the condition to speak, but he had a grim thought that hung above his head like a death sentence. It made him uneasy. All of these things…

„Are you suggesting that she… with his…” Sherlock couldn’t put it into words but Mycroft nodded anyway. „No way…”

„It’s the only possibility. Why else would she try to run away from us? Why would she punish herself so much? All the things she does is guilt ridden. Must be the only possible explanation…"

 

Another week passed. My lower abdomen was in constant pain. I didn't go to any check ups, I haven't told anyone either. During this one week, both Sherlock and Mycroft tried to persuade me to let them in, but I successfully sent them away. At least, they didn't break down my door. Yet.

And, on one morning, I woke up to the most painful cramp and decided I needed professional help. And I'd need to tell this to someone.

So I reached for my phone and called John.   _Pick up, pick up…_

„Yes? Leda, is that you?”

„You’re a doctor, right?” I whispered and I gritted my teeth.

„Yes. Do you need help?”

„I have… it hurts so much. My lower stomach. I can’t bear it…”

„Do you want me to come over?”

I bit my lower lip. There was a chance he’d tell Mycroft and Sherlock, but I had to take chances. I calculated the outcome. It could be disastrous... but I couldn't take it anymore.

"Yes but don't tell anyone!"

"Alright. I'm on my way."

I knew Mycroft would know immediately I invited John, so I must be brief. Half an hour later John arrived and I let him in. I barely could stand and he saw, he helped me sit down on the sofa.

"Oh my God Leda, you look..."

"Horrible. I know", I panted. "Please check me. Please it hurts so much."

"Alright." He gently slipped a hand under my shirt and tried to figure out what was the problem. He gently touched and pushed at points. He frowned. "I can't feel anything. Where is it coming from exactly?"

"Here", I showed him my lower right side. John went pale. "What? What is it?"

"I need to take you to a hospital."

"No... no way." I shook my head. "I can't..."

"I must. You're bleeding, look..."

I stared at the sofa under me and I moaned, embarrassed.

"I can't!" I jumped up and ran in my bathroom. I locked the door behind myself. "Thanks for coming, go away!"

"Leda, please!" He yelled on the other side. Then he called for an ambulence. I collapsed on the floor, the intense pain blinded me. I didn't realise I was screaming. "Open the door!"

It wasn't possible. The pain paralyzed me and I thought this was the end. Maybe my thoughts were strong against it. Maybe it went away on its own. I already had a miscarriage once before, but I didn't remember it being this painful and one sided.

By the time the ambulence arrived and broke down my door, I was silent, unmoving. When they put me in the van in the street, I passed out.

The next time I woke up I was at the hospital and a woman pushed me down a corridor while I was lying on a bed. When she saw I was awake, she looked down at me.

"We'll begin the operation shortly. It'll be alright."

Then I passed out again.

I had no idea how much time passed. I turned my head and moaned, thinking it was impossible for me to feel so much pain. Someone sighed next to me and I dreaded to know who was it.

If anyone knew... if _he_ knew... if it was _him..._ I remembered I had to have an operation, so it really must've been a miscarriage. It was gone. But the relief never came. I tried to gather my remaining courage and opened my eyes to look at whoever it was there with me.

It was, of course, Mycroft.

His eyes immediately met mine. He was sitting in a chair and had his umbrella with him, both of his hands on its handle, but his coat, gloves and scarf were missing. He had his dark blue three piece on, which matched his eye colour. I couldn't imagine what he was thinking now. He must've been upset with me to no end. I was afraid. Because, even though, Mycroft never hurt me physically, I still had the memories of the past tainting my thoughts. I expected yelling. Shouting. Scolding. I expected him to hit me, for some weird reason. But he remained there, just sitting, staring at me, silently.

I felt my insides twist with desperate fear. Tears filled my eyes. He’ll tear me apart, either with words or deeds, or maybe both. I lied to him, I escaped him not once, I refused to get medical help and now… now I couldn’t run away anymore. This was it. He’s going to destroy me. I started to weakly grab the sheets under my hands and I sniffed, the intense fear and sadness washing over me, numbing me. My throat tightened. That was when he sighed again.

"Why?" He whispered, and I couldn't reply. He didn’t sound angry at all, but I was ready to try and save myself if he was about to lash out. "Leda, explain it to me, because I don't understand. _Why?_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh I enjoyed this. ;)  
> You'll have to wait, because I want to write my other Mycroft story now (In The Shadows), so sorry!  
> Also... I'm writing yet another Mycroft fanfic and I'm thinking about uploading that here, too. Would you read it? :3


	25. Removal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "If you weren’t so afraid of the consequences of something you couldn’t control, we wouldn’t be here now."

As I continued looking at Mycroft, I knew I had to answer to him at some point and it didn't make it easier for me that I was in bed. My flee instinct was strong, but it discouraged me to know he sat between me and the door. Summed up, I was done for.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Leda", he said softly. Mycroft must've noticed my glances towards the door. He knew what was going on in my mind. I held the sheets tighter. "Please, respond. Why do you keep running away from me?"

The tears still stung my eyes.

"You know", I whispered and my voice was hoarse.

"I still want to hear it. You have to tell me. I deserve this much, wouldn't you agree?"

I looked down at the duvet and I sniffed. He waited. I knew he wouldn't go away unless I told him the truth. I buried my face in my hands.

"I don't want... I don't want you to see me like... like this", I cried in my hands. "I am... I am horrible..."

"No, you're not", he said quietly. "Leda, please, look at me." I lowered my hands and rubbed away my tears. It was hard for me to look at him after all I've done to him. This guilt... it was too much. "I know you were, and are, afraid. Too many things happened to you, and most of them were way out of your control. But you should know me better than this. You should know I can't and won't leave you when you need me the most."

At this, I started to cry again. Because I left him when he needed me the most. I left him all alone on his own. Of course he had his family, but I remembered Sherlock said he asked for me just after he woke up. And it made me feel worse and worse.

"No..." I whimpered and I hid my face again. "I don't... I don't deserve... you..."

"And why not?" He asked gently.

"I... I cheated... and betrayed you..."

"No, you didn't." His calm reply tore me apart. I sobbed, and he came over to me to sit next to me on my bed. I felt he wrapped his arms around me and I buried my face in his chest. "Adam hurt you. But he can't reach you anymore. I made sure of it. He won't touch or even look at you, I promise you that. He can't hurt you anymore, dearest." I clung to his waistcoat and wet it with my tears while he held me tight and rubbed my back. I calmed down a little. "What he did to you is unforgivable and it's not your fault it happened, it's his. I'm not angry at you for anything, dear. I'm really not angry. But I was, and I am, worried." He pulled from me and cupped my cheeks, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. "You've let yourself down. Completely. Why?"

"Because... because I deserved... it."

"You're so wrong", he said and brought me back to his chest. "You didn't and don't deserve it. You shouldn't punish yourself."

"But... but I let him..."

"He was stronger than you, dearest. You didn't ask for it, he just took what he thought he was entitled to take. You didn't want it to happen and you most certainly didn't deserve it." I didn't realise I was crying again. "I shudder to think how many times he violated you." He ran his fingers in my hair. "But he won't, in the future, not anymore. Ever again. You're finally, completely safe. I give you my word, I swear."

I slowly calmed down and started to notice the increasing pain in my lower stomach. I held onto Mycroft, I didn't want him to see my pain, but he pulled away anyway to put me back in the bed. He gently pulled the blanket up on me again. I saw it in his eyes he was upset. I tensed.

"Why didn't you tell about it to anyone?" He asked quietly. I tensed more. He got a hold of my hands and rubbed my fingers. He knew. _Oh no, he **knew**._ "Do you have any idea why are you here, in this hospital, now?"

I calmed down a few minutes ago, but at his question, tears started to gather in my eyes again. My fingers shook in his hold.

"I think I... had a... mis... miscarriage", I said quietly and Mycroft took a deep breath.

"What happened is more complicated than that, I'm afraid."

I swallowed nervously and waited. When he didn't talk for a while, I felt my throat tighten.

"What happened, then?" I asked quietly.

"Are you sure you want to know?" He asked and I nodded. "Really sure? I can tell you the truth, but it might upset you."

"Yes... yes, I'd like to know, please..."

He stared in my eyes for a few moments and I noticed whatever happened to me was very serious.

"You've had an ectopic pregnancy." His words were quiet and calm. I tried to stay just as calm. "The fetus implanted in your Fallopian tube and started to grow there. It became too big and caused a rupture. As I was told, you've lost a lot of blood due to it and with your weakened system it could've killed you." I couldn't say anything. He continued rubbing my hands and I knew he was upset with me. I could _sense_ it. Even if he tried his best not to show it to me, I felt. "Why didn't you seek medical help as soon as you suspected that you were pregnant?"

I shook my head. There were too many reasons. I couldn’t talk, my throat was so tight I wasn’t sure I’d be able to ever utter a single sound again. Then I broke down crying once more. Mycroft waited. I knew he wanted to hear me to tell him what I was thinking, but I just couldn’t gather my strength to do it. I was too afraid. Of what, I didn’t even know. I’ve tried to protect him from the truth in the past few weeks, I’ve abandoned him in his time of need, and I’ve nearly managed to end my own life, even though it wasn’t my intention.

„Love, please, tell me”, he nudged me gently with his words, his hold gentle and firm around my hands at the same time.

„I didn’t… want you to know”, I whimpered, shaking now. „I was afraid…”

„Of what? Have I ever hurt you before?” At his quiet question I shook my head. „What you’ve done is completely illogical to me. _All of it._ At first I thought you were upset with me but at least I was sure that with time you’d let me at least explain. Then I hear today the state you’re in. I feel guilty for not pushing you more before. I’m sure this never should’ve happened if you were with me.”

I shook my head again.

„No… no… Adam was right… I’m really nothing but a—”

„Please, **don’t** ”, Mycroft silenced me, strict, this time. „He’s a **monster.** And this is all **his** fault. If you weren’t so afraid of the consequences of something you couldn’t control, we wouldn’t be here now.”

I stayed silent for a few minutes and avoided his gaze. A nurse walked in, silently, and she brought a tray with her. I didn’t check what was it, I smelled the food anyway. Mycroft thanked her then dismissed her and I was worried he’d make me eat now. I was nauseous. I literally felt sick of myself.

„Why didn’t you want me to know?” He asked.

I took a deep, shaky breath, then looked down on our hands.

„Because I thought you’d hate me. And I’d lose you again.” It felt like it wasn’t me who spoke. „Even knowing it grew in me I… I knew I wouldn’t be able to hurt it, doesn’t matter I didn’t want it at all… and I knew if I would so much as try to get rid of it you’d know… and I just couldn’t bear the thought that you’d know…” My face distorted at the thought. „I didn’t know what to do because I knew you’d watch me from afar, so I just… tried not to care about it, really.”

„And your most recent diet?” He asked quietly. „All you’ve bought for yourself was bread. Why?”

I was right then, he did watch over me. I was right about it all along.

„I can’t eat anything else since… you were…” I paused. A sudden realisation hit me on the head so hard I nearly fainted. I looked up at him, slightly panicking. „Did they… remove… one of my tubes?”

Mycroft narrowed his eyes. He pondered on the thought for a moment or two before he replied.

„Yes, but you still have chance. Your other tube is intact and healthy.”

_„Oh no…”_

The thought that even Adam’s _offspring_ could cause me so much damage was hilarious and horrifying at the same time. He held my hands tighter when he saw I started to spiral out of control.

„It’s fine. Listen to my voice. It’s alright. You can still get pregnant. You still have a chance.”

He was wrong. I knew he was. He had no idea about what I knew…

„I don’t deserve you”, I whispered almost just to myself and he rubbed my knuckles.

„On the contrary. I am, and this is what you deserve.” He gently let my hands go and brought the tray to his lap. I looked up at him again and I felt even more broken than before. When he saw how I looked at him, he smiled faintly. „Yes. It is true. You deserve to be loved and cared for after all of those horrible things you’ve been through. Let me help you, alright?”

„I _can’t_ … I abandoned you… when you needed me…”

„Consider it forgiven and forgotten”, he said quietly. „Now, let’s just eat, alright? You’ll need to get up today and I want you to leave the hospital with me as soon as possible.”

And then, he fed me with steamed veggies and fried chicken breast. We were silent and he seemed less and less tense with each bite I swallowed. I stopped arguing, there was no point. I wouldn’t be able to tell him how upset I was with myself anyway and he’d talk me out of it right away. When I ate all the food, he gave me a mug of warm tea. I drank it on my own. He smiled and seemed so content.

„Good. First, food. Now, rest.” He helped me lean back on the pillows and he placed a kiss on my forehead. „I’ll be back in two hours. Try to sleep a little until then, alright?”

I sniffed and swallowed.

„You don’t hate me, then?” I asked quietly and he smiled, warm, down on me.

„How could I ever hate you? You’re the best part of me.”

 

In the next half hour I couldn’t do anything just stare at the ceiling. I couldn’t cry, it didn’t seem either useful or reasonable to me anymore. Honestly, tears never did me any good. I touched my lower stomach and thought about the past when the doctors told me I couldn’t have a child the natural way.

Why did I punish myself so much in the near past? Because of what he said to me at Christmas. He wanted a child, and I’d never be able to give that to him. Not anymore. I thought I had no chance earlier, but now, **_now…_** now it was almost completely impossible. With only one tube, the chances were so thin as a spider’s thread.

I turned on my side and curled up. I stayed like that until I managed to fall asleep. But then, a nurse came in to ask me to go to the restroom, which I did. I was in so much pain. Then I lied back in the bed and curled up again. The nurse said I could go home later that day.

I wasn’t sure I wanted that. Not like with what happened. Mycroft would probably try and convince me to go to his house, but how could I? I wasn’t even capable of doing what a woman should be. I was just a piece of… flesh and bone, skin and hair.

I didn’t move. Not even when I heard Mycroft came back. I recognised his steps, they were completely different from those who walked up and down at the corridor. My door was slightly open when he arrived.

„Are you awake?” He asked and as a reply, I hummed. „They told me I could bring you home. Can you walk?”

My throat tightened. **No…** I shouldn't do this to myself. I should go with him and let all the bad thoughts go. I practiced this every day, why couldn't I live by it now? I turned and looked up at him and he smiled at me, sad.

" _Still?_ " Was all he asked and he stepped to my bed and stroked my head. I didn't reply. “Love, everything’s alright. I promise. I’m not angry, you’re safe and we’ll be both fine.”

“I know, but I’m still angry at myself”, I mumbled.

“Don’t be. If I could forgive you, you should be able to forgive yourself, too.”

“What if you’re wrong? What if you realise later that you never should’ve forgiven me?”

“That won’t happen.” Mycroft sat on the edge of my bed and leaned down to kiss my forehead. “Come on. Let me take you home.”

“But…” I grabbed the duvet, “I’ve never… been to… I need clothes from my apartment…”

“ _Maybe_ I already took care of that.”

“Oh, you…”

I wanted to reach for my mala for the hundredth time that day but it wasn’t around my neck. Mycroft watched my movement and pulled a small bag out of his pocket. I looked at it – it looked like it was made of simple, black silk. Mycroft got a hold of my hand and placed the small bag in it. I felt the mala inside the bag and I smiled as tears filled my eyes.

“Thank you”, I said quietly, opened the bag and put the mala around my neck.

“They had to take it off before the operation.”

I didn’t say anything just nodded as I started to fidget with the small, cold black beads. He watched me doing it.

“It’s okay.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes before I looked up at him. Mycroft looked back in my eyes, he looked like he was wondering about something before he leaned closer to me and kissed my lips. His mouth was warm and I closed my eyes, let the beads go and wrapped my arms around his neck. He put one of his hands on my face and stroked my cheek. I felt I blushed. I missed this, his touch, his lips and his skin against mine.

“Come with me, please”, he said as he pulled away from me. “I don’t… think I could endure another night without you.”

I fidgeted with his hair at the back of his head, this time, and I felt he shivered a little. I gently kissed the tip of his nose and finally smiled a little.

“Okay.”

 

I was trying to find my place in his home.

Everything was so… vast. His house was big and I was small. The furniture and the decorations made me nervous. Instead of trying to help him with the dinner – which I wanted to, but I just couldn’t stick around – I got myself a warm bubble bath. I had no idea if I ever could get used to all of this luxury. Sure, this house was very different from his haven – that one was rather modern, this one seemed old fashioned instead –, but still, his taste in everything was exquisite and I still felt like everything was alright here but not me.

As I tilted my head back in the bath I stared at the ceiling. I probably won’t be able to stick to my old routine. I knew he wouldn’t let me eat only one slice of bread a day. Maybe I could do my prostrations… and the studying and mediation while he’s at work. I wondered on and on how we’d live with each other and I just couldn’t picture it. Maybe I should just let it happen? I shouldn’t think about it… but still…

What if he realised he didn’t want me to be here at all, in the end?

With a sigh, I let the water down and got out to dry myself with a fluffy, warm towel. I looked at the scar on my lower abdomen and it hit me so hard again I started to cry. I put an arm on the sink’s side and let the tears go. Better do it here than in front of him… after I calmed down, I got dressed, hissing from the pain, and I opened the door to join him in the kitchen. As I walked down the stairs, I took every step slow and stopped when I felt like I needed it. Mycroft was almost finished with cooking and he looked back at me when I entered the kitchen.

“Smells delicious”, I noted as I stopped in the doorway and leaned against it with a tired sigh.

He noticed I had a hand on my lower stomach.

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly, leaving the things to cook on their own, walking over to me.

“I’ve been better”, I shrugged.

“Don’t you want to eat in the bed?”

I smiled at him and stroked his face gently. He leaned into my touch and closed his eyes for a moment.

“No, I’ll be fine. Promise.”

He leaned to me and kissed my forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> Huh? What are you staring at? I told you I am a little shit. If you're interested in the next chapter, tell me!


End file.
